


Ordinary Magic

by storyspinner70



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Sam, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fae and other creatures, M/M, Magic, Mpreg, Ridiculousness, Suicide Attempt and Ideation, Top Dean, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 16:44:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyspinner70/pseuds/storyspinner70
Summary: The day started like any other, but ended with Dean having to save his brother from the evil clutches of – fairies? All Dean wanted was some beer after a rough day. What he ended up with was his brother pregnant with his child. Constant brotherly bickering, a haunted house that landed Sam in the hospital, a hunt where Dean was assisted by some sort of creature he’d never seen, and general panic at the upcoming birth of their child nearly tore the brothers apart when even heaven itself had failed. Could a world survive if the Winchesters hated each other, or will they finally discover what it is they both truly want?Written for the SPN J2 Big Bang 2018





	1. Chapter 1

**Fic title:** Ordinary Magic

 **Author name:** storyspinner70

 **Artist name:** [yanyann ](https://yanyann.livejournal.com/)

**Genre:** Wincest

 **Pairing:** Dean/Sam

 **Rating:** Explicit

 **Word count:** 23,500+

 **Warnings:** top!dean, bottom!sam, mpreg, brief mentions of suicide attempt and ideation, wincest, language, explicit sex, canon level violence, angst, magic, fae and other creatures.

 **Summary:** The day started like any other, but ended with Dean having to save his brother from the evil clutches of – fairies? All Dean wanted was some beer after a rough day. What he ended up with was his brother pregnant with his child. Constant brotherly bickering, a haunted house that landed Sam in the hospital, a hunt where Dean was assisted by some sort of creature he’d never seen, and general panic at the upcoming birth of their child nearly tore the brothers apart when even heaven itself had failed. Could a world survive if the Winchesters hated each other, or will they finally discover what it is they both truly want?

 **Link to fic:** [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981291)

 **Link to art:** [LJ](https://yanyann.livejournal.com/16121.html)

 

A/N: Thank you so much to my amazing artist, yanyann! Love the art so much for this! It’s gorgeous. I’d be honored to work with you again in the future – if you could put up with me again! lmao

Also, to my poor, poor editor who spends her time deleting half the commas I use and adding a quarter back in other places, cursing at me for my love of run on sentences and trying to keep track of all my tense changes. I love you! :D

Soooo, there’s magic in this here story, which pretty much means I took liberties...everywhere. The timeline is vague, but there are mentions that put it after purgatory and the discovery of God, so spoilers. Also, yes, Bobby is alive when he shouldn’t be, and I don’t care!

Also also, I’ve used auras and magic a lot recently. Not sure why. I have taken dramatic license, though, with how that works. Lies, for instance, aren’t just one color, mostly shifts in color, resonance and/or the energy of an aura. As for the magic, everything is made up in the labyrinths of my mind. lol

Also also also, the two hunts the boys go on are completely gratuitous. The haunted house is real and just a couple miles down the road from me. Details up to when they actually enter the house are also real. The trip to Nevada? Well, news of the impending reboot has re-awakened my love for Roswell. Czechoslovakians, snapple, the christmas gifts and The Crashdown are all an homage to my love of the show, and Matthew and Markie are in honor of Michael and Maria – my favorite pair. Though he’s not an alien in this story, Matthew is some kind of unspecified demon/angel hybrid the boys have never come across, and he’s not the only one. I know this because they live entirely in my head, so I say so. Long live Czechoslovakians!

All that said...on with the show!

 

 

If there's one thing that Sam knows for certain, it's that Dean loves him and cares about him. If there's one other thing Sam knows, it's that his brother is going to have a shit fit. We're talking staring, blinking, then snarling like a mad dog shit fit. Sam just hopes it doesn't last too long.

**

Dean stepped into their 70s fusion, disco lovin' motel room and hollered for Sam. When there was no response, he headed for the avocado colored mini-fridge and grabbed a beer. Cracking open the lid he reached for the remote – and stopped when he saw a note on the middle of Sam's bed.

_Dean, We told you a million times not to mess with us. Maybe now you'll_

_listen. We've got Sam, and we're not giving him back._ _Never fuck with a pixie._

Dean crushed the note in his fist, and it was not until he noted the sparkly dust all over his hand that he realized just who had Sam and why.

"Son of a bitch! Listen to me you, you _fairies_! I don't give a damn if you say you're a pixie or a sprite or a god damned unicorn! All I know is you're tiny little pieces of shit and I'm going to kill you all if I don't have Sam back here now!"

Dean cocked his head like he was actually expecting a response. Eyes wide and jaw cocked, he waited. "That's it! I'm going to turn every one of you into a pile of glitter! And you better hope that no one has touched a hair on Sam's head! I mean it! Not one hair! I know you can hear me, you - "

"Calm down, for god's sake. Dean. We don't have Sam."

Dean searched frantically for the pixie. Spotting a little moving blur in the corner of the room, Dean attacked. The pixie squeaked and zoomed away from Dean. "Dean! Seriously, man, how stupid do you think we are?" Flitting over the room and just barely evading Dean's hands, the pixie tried to explain, but his voice matched his tiny body, and in Dean's rage, it was more a high pitched hum than words.

Taking a deep breath, the pixie flew right up to Dean's ear and screamed, "We don't have your brother!"

"Ow, fuck! What the hell?" Dean clapped his hand to his ear, just barely missing the pixie. "What do you mean you don't have my brother? I've got your note right here!"

Taking a moment, the pixie decided to trust Dean and flew right in front of him. "Think about it, Dean. If we took your brother, would we even leave a note? And if we _were_ that stupid would we leave an unsigned note then leave our “pixie dust” as you call it all over it?"

Dean had been ready to snatch the pixie out of the air but paused as he thought that through. "So, who the fuck has Sam, then?"

"I don't know for sure. Probably the fae. They're particularly unhappy with us right now."

"The fae? I thought you _were_ fae?"

The pixie rolled his tiny little eyes. "No Dean. We are not fae. We are piskie. Fae are – fae are vermin under our feet. We are the true rulers of the fairyland."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Rulers of fairyland. Fabulous. So in other words, your little fae friends here snatched my brother, what, because they have a grudge against you? Tell me how that makes sense to you at all."

"It makes perfect sense, Dean, don't you see?"

"Humor me." Dean crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the pixie, "And so help me, if you roll your eyes at me one more time, I'm going to find that stray cat I saw outside and show him his shiny new chew toy. Spit it out. They have Sam because…"

"Rowan married Damon." Dean just blinked. The pixie stared at Dean like he was supposed to know what the fuck that meant.

"So what the fuck does that mean?"

"Oh, sorry. I forget you're not up on piskie/fae relations." The pixie waved at Dean, giggling until he noticed exactly how evil the eye was that Dean was giving him. Clearing his throat, the pixie continued. "As I'm sure you know, piskie are good and fae are bad," Dean raised his eyebrow at the blatant oversimplification, but didn't interrupt. "It's always been this way. Even in the mists of a time when the fae and piskie lived in harmony, they were scheming to overthrow us.

"Our ruler, Aelfric, was piskie. The leader of the fae, Kailen, decided that the fae were being treated unfairly, and tried to overthrow Aelfric. They failed and all who took part in or encouraged the rebellion were banished forever. They have hated us and we them ever since.

"The fae has tried to destroy us time after time. They have succeeded twice. Each time we recovered what was ours, and the contact between us has become less and less. A fortnight ago, the unthinkable happened. A piskie married a fae." The pixie paused as if expecting Dean to comment. Dean merely stared at the pixie a little bit harder. "We were unaware of the union until it was too late. They were mated. And that's not the worst part." Another pause. Still no response from Dean. "The piskie is pregnant," the pixie croaked. "Pregnant by fae seed with a half-breed child that will destroy us all.

"There have always been rumblings of the destruction of our kind. No, that's not entirely accurate. It's more the assimilation of our kind. There would be no more piskie, no more fae. The world as we know it would no longer exist. This child is going to bring about that change."

"This is fascinating, but I haven't heard one syllable about how this relates to what I give a damn about – Sam."

"I'm getting there. Calm down. They won't harm him. We have time." The pixie paused. "Did you just growl at me?" When the growling grew louder, the pixie rushed on. "No one wants the world like we know it to end. The only thing worse than losing ourselves to the fae is losing to someone we know nothing about. It's hard to tell who would still be standing after the dust cleared. From the stories the elders tell, it wouldn't be many of us – if any of us.

"The fae have a plan. They're going to majick the baby out of the piskie and into one of their own. They have already bewitched the pair. If they control the baby, they think they can control the outcome. One part of their plan is greatly reducing our numbers to make it easier to fight us. That's where you come in.

"Everyone knows that if anyone can annihilate our ranks it's you. And everyone also knows that all it takes for that to happen is for someone to take your one true love and you'll - "

"You mean my brother?"

"Brother, lover, soulmate, whatever you want to call it, the results are the same. The fae snatch Sam, blame us, and you rip us all apart to get him back. You're not exactly subtle with your possessive streak, there, Dean."

This time, Dean did snatch him out of the air. "Now listen to me, you Tinkerbell wannabe. You say you _think_ they have Sam and spout this nonsense about the destruction of all you know or whatever, but you have no proof about any of it. How do I know you're not just lying to get me off your trail so you all can take my brother and disappear while I'm off searching for fairies?"

"We have scouts searching for him right now! We'll have proof for you anytime now! I wouldn't have agreed to come here if it was a lie. I know you, Dean. I know how you wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone that touches your love. I would never be so brave or as foolish as to come to you with a lie."

"One, he's my _brother_ and two, you better hope your little pixie posse show up soon, or this will become a suicide mission for you real quick."

The pixie squeaked again and then opened his mouth to reply (Oh, who is he kidding? Beg for his life is more like it.) when three pixies appeared beside him. "Don't hurt him! We found your love! We found him!"

"What is the deal with you pixies and calling Sam my love? For the last time, we are brothers!"

The pixies just stared at Dean for a moment, incredulity in their eyes and puzzlement in the twist of their mouths. One of them shook his head and shouted, "We have to go if you want your love back untouched! They started the rite already!"

"I told you – What do you mean untouched? Rite? What rite? You better start talking, sprite, and I mean now!"

The pixie rolled his eyes at Dean calling him yet another fairyland creature and huffed in annoyance. "Just come on, would you?" A moment later, Dean was covered in pixie dust and hurtling through time and space.

"What the f- What is it with you people? Can't anyone drive anywhere anymore? Jesus!"

"Dean!"

"Sammy? I'm coming, Sammy! Hang on!"

**

Sam was bound to the table he was lying on. There were no ropes or chains that he could see, but he sure couldn't lift his arms or legs. In fact, he really couldn't wiggle at all. Fairies surrounded him, chanting in a language he didn't understand, touching and rubbing an ancient looking leather bound book in front of him. Two other fairies, a male and a female by the looks of it, were bound beside Sam on their own tables.

As the chanting fairies approached the woman, their voices became louder and more urgent. She smiled beautifully, but then one of the fairies placed their hand on her stomach and she started to scream. They were obviously hurting her, but once it was over, she went back to smiling. Sam began to struggle in earnest.

As the fairies approached Sam, they fanned out to form a circle around Sam's feet and legs. The fairy who had touched the woman was far back from Sam, murmuring about a rite and not being able to touch Sam until the rite was done.

Fairies gingerly laid the book on Sam's stomach, then began to chant again – a melodic but guttural flow of sounds that reminded Sam of the German he'd quickly learned when they'd had to deal with a werewolf that had unknowingly come over on a cross-Atlantic flight.

Craning his head, he tried desperately to see the book resting on his abdomen. He could just barely make out the symbols but tried his best to remember as many as he could, hoping it would help undo whatever it was they were trying to do to him. Lips moving, he repeated the symbols to himself as best as he could.

Suddenly, there was cursing from somewhere outside the chamber they were in. It sounded like -

"Dean!"

"Sammy? I'm coming, Sammy! Hang on!"

The fairies chanted faster, desperate to finish their rite before they were interrupted. Sounds of fighting reached Sam and he started laughing as he heard Dean right outside the door. "You should have known better than think you could get away with this. You know Dean would never let you get away with this."

The fairy that had made the woman scream glared at Sam and motioned the other chanting fairies to hurry. They were repeating the same passage for the third time when Dean burst through the door. The lone fairy screamed, "No! Stop him!"

The chanting never stopped. Dean flicked off the ineffective fairies trying to stop him, enraged at seeing his brother trapped in the middle of some ceremony. As he got near enough, he reached his hand out to grasp Sam's arm. Fairy and pixie alike screamed, "No, don't touch him!"

Before they were through yelling, Dean's hand had already wrapped around Sam's arm, anxious to tug him up and off the table. Instead, his eyes widened as he felt a tingle then a burn started in his groin then moved up his body and through his arm into Sam’s grip. Sam's mouth fell open on a gasp and he began to shake and jerk.

Dean shook off his own discomfort and brought his other hand up to grasp Sam's face. "Sammy. Can you hear me? Sammy! What's going on? What's happening? What are you feeling?"

Sam gasped out, "I'm okay. Just burn-burning in my lower belly. It's – it's not that painful, but I – Something's happening Dean."

Whirling on the creatures in the room, Dean snarled at them. "What have you done? What's wrong with him? So help me god, if you did anything to harm him, I will kill every god damned fairy, pixie, and sprite I can find! There won't be one of you left in the entire universe! What is wrong with him!" Dean's voice had gotten louder and more deadly with every word until he was screaming at the creatures cowering in front of him.

It was the pixie that came to get him that finally answered him. "Sam's pregnant."

Sam's head shot up. "Excuse me?" Dean and Sam asked at the same time.

"It was a preparation rite. I told you, Dean. They wanted to take the baby. Move it to one of their own. But they can't just take a half-breed and stick it in a fairy and expect things to go well. They needed a stronger host for the beginning. They were going to use a gnome at first, but then they thought up their little plan with Sam here. Two birds with one stone, so to speak. The baby would have been so small, you probably wouldn't have even noticed, and when the chosen was ready, the fae would just come back when you were asleep and take the baby again."

"But I don't have the stuff for that!" Sam huffed, still unable to breathe properly.

"The rite takes care of that," the pixie replied, gently.

"So now I have a uterus and a half-breed fairy baby inside me?" Sam struggled to set up. "I can't handle this. What the- I just-"

"Well, no." The pixie hesitated, unsure how the next part was going to go over. "The rite doesn't work that way. See, it just makes everything ready. Prepares you for what you need so that when – Well, it’s just that – See - "

"Get on with it!" Dean barked.

"The priest touched Rowan. Took her child. But he has it, sort of stored. The rite makes it so that once he touches you, the baby will leave him and settle into place inside you. The spell is originally for fae who could not conceive. It's a majick form of IVF, really. It's meant to be a good thing. It’s only when fickle, ill meaning fae corrupt it that majick goes bad."

"But he didn't touch me!" Sam cried, relieved. "So I can't be pregnant. Dean got here…first…Oh."

"Yes, he did. And he touched you. So his body gave what you needed from him, and yours did the rest. Congratulations. You're pregnant. Dean, you'll make a wonderful father."

Dean's hands slowly dropped away from Sam. Sam ventured a look at Dean and saw nothing but a blank sort of shock. Dean looked just how Sam felt.

"But… Undo it!" Sam demanded.

"It can't be undone. It's a simple, good majick, but it's strong and unbreakable. The baby inside you is protected now. It's blessed. Nothing bad can happen to it. Even if you were to die, your body would continue to nourish the baby until it is born. It's…" The pixie looked down for a moment. "It's supposed to bring joy not torment."

Dean just stared for a moment then erupted. Snarling, he plucked the fae priest up by his arms. "Give her her baby back. Now!"

He dangled the priest over the pixie woman's body. "Now!"

The other fae scrambled to circle the woman, chanting. Shaking, the priest touched the woman's stomach and she screamed. Dean tightened his hold on the fairy until it was excruciating. "They better be fine when this is over, fairy, or so help me, I'm not kidding. I will find every single one of you."

Dean wasn't just talking about the pixie woman and her baby, and the fae priest knew it.

An hour later, the piskie had rounded up all the fae that had been involved in the rite and they had been imprisoned. Rowan and Damon were shaken but on their way home with the piskie. Sam was sitting, silently on the side of the table he'd been laying on. Dean huffed a couple of breaths and walked over. Without his approval, his fingers raised to brush through Sam's hair, pushing it off his face and behind his ears.

"Ready to go, Sammy? I need to get the fuck out of here." Sam just nodded. Two silent pixies approached them, and a second later, they were back in their motel room. The shine of 70s disco wasn't so funny when they looked around this time. Hell, neither one of them had too much to laugh about right now.

The pixie that had come for Dean lingered. "It really is a joyous thing. There's nothing better than a child born from love, and I've never seen such a love as yours. It's so strong, your baby probably doesn't even need majick to survive the worst life has to offer. Nothing would dare touch him. My name is Foster. If you ever need me, just call my name three times and I'll appear."

When neither Dean nor Sam acknowledged him in any way, the pixie frowned, then disappeared.

Dean warily approached Sam, sinking down on the bed beside him. Sam immediately sprang up.

"Sam," Dean started, standing as well.

"No. Not now. I need- I need time. I don't want to talk about – anything. Not the b- Nothing. Not a word."

Dean merely grunted, then plopped back on the bed, a little hurt, but understanding what Sam needed. A baby. His baby. Inside Sam. Shifting at how uncomfortable that _didn't_ make him feel, Dean flipped on the television.

Sam lay on the other bed, his back to the rest of the room, staring sightlessly out of the window.

**

Sam woke in the early hours of the morning, deep in the hold of a panic attack. Rushing to the bathroom, he threw up the meager meal Dean had bullied him into eating for supper. Staring at his face in the bathroom mirror, Sam suddenly slammed the medicine cabinet door open so he could no longer see himself.

Snarling, he dropped his head, then clenched his fists where they rested on the sink. Wrenching upright, Sam stood, but then his hand gravitated to the knife he wore strapped to his ankle. He huffed a quick breath, then quickly moved to stab himself in the stomach. True to the pixies word, the knife stopped inches above his skin. No matter how hard he pushed and strained, he couldn't force it any nearer.

Letting out a frustrated cry, Sam sank to the floor in front of the bathtub. Glaring morosely at the knife in his hands, Sam suddenly got an idea. Gritting his teeth, Sam sliced open his left wrist. Blood beaded and gushed immediately, then stopped just as quickly. Screaming, Sam cut his wrist again and again with the same results.

In the back of his mind, Sam could hear Dean pounding on the door and screaming his name. Seconds later, the frame splintered, and Dean rushed in, gun drawn.

"Sam! Oh, god! Sam!"

"Don't worry, Dean, I'm fine. It's just like the pixie said. No matter what, I'll be fine. I'll be perfectly fucking fine, Dean! No matter what! No matter that I don't want this! No matter that it's against nature and god knows what else for me to have this fucking thing, I'll be fine and so will it! I don't have a fucking choice! I can't harm it; I can't harm myself.

"Hey, at least you get some time off from big brother duty, huh, Dean? Don't have to worry as long as I've got your baby bubbling away in here! Nothing can hurt me, right? So, yay! Let's go take a vacation, shall we? No, wait. Let's take advantage. Let's go hunt the nastiest thing we can find, huh? I mean, I can't be hurt, so no fear, right? Right?"

Dean didn't say a word. What could he say? Dropping down beside Sam, Dean sat, silent, blood soaking slowly into his boxers. Sam's blood.

Silently, they stared out of the filthy bathroom window. Dawn really was quite beautiful.

**

Sam finally fell into a fitful sleep and Dean went out for some food. Just like normal. But nothing was normal and nothing would ever be normal again. He’d left Sam a note, so he stopped and grabbed a coffee, then drove to the edge of town.

For a moment, Dean just sat and stared aimlessly, his coffee going cold at his side. Sam, his brother, _his baby brother_ , was having Dean’s child. He wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do. What he was supposed to feel. He wasn’t even sure he _could_ feel right now.

He patted around in his coat, looking for a cigarette – a nasty habit he tried to keep from Sam and all his infernal bitching about Dean’s health – but didn’t have any and soon gave up. For a few minutes, he just sat, thinking of nothing but the leaves blowing in the breeze, a faint rustle that echoed the buzzing in Dean’s head.

Without even thinking it through, he was calling out. “Foster! Foster! Foster!”

“Are you well, friend?”

“I am not. I...”

“Hunter?”

“Will he really be alright?” Dean asked finally.

“Your love will be well.”

“Physically, sure,” Dean said, ignoring the pixies’ continuing to call Sam his love. “But you have to understand. He’s a man. He can’t give birth. What doctor are we supposed to go to? Even a hunter doctor would be...” Dean stopped abruptly.

“The majick will..”

“Where is the baby even going to come out? How is that going to work? Did you even think this through?”

“When it’s time, the baby will tell him all. Sam has everything he needs. It will be fine.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Foster frowned. “Not even majick such as ours can overcome that kind of loss, Dean. If he loses his great love now, I’m not sure even our power could save him.”

Dean stood abruptly. “What is this great love shit your kind is always talking about? Sam is my brother!”

“We know that Dean. But that isn’t all there is, is it?” Foster’s voice was gentle and coaxing.

“What, of course, that’s all there is! What else would there be?”

“Do you know about auras, Dean?”

“Do I look like a gypsy to you?”

“Kind of? I mean you have the whole dark and brood...” Foster cut off quickly when Dean swung around to glare at him.

“It’s new age mystical nonsense is what it is.”

Foster narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been to hell, you’re actually talking to a piskie right now, and you still deny the likelihood?”

“Yeah, well, I’m special that way.”

“You are special, Dean. That was the whole point.”

“Well then get on with it.”

“Auras are different not only from person to person but in moments of time, as well. The base color will almost always be the same, but they’re just as fluid as your feelings are. The base color, though, is your soul. That too can change. I’ve seen it happen after times of tragedy and great loss. It’s a terrible thing.” Foster stopped for a moment and shook his head looking sad. “You and Sam, though. Your auras are...” He stopped again.

“Are what?”

“I don’t even know if I can properly explain it.”

“Try real hard.”

“Auras are never static because our feelings aren’t static. Colors swirl and ebb like tides of an ocean, and your base color is like the bottom of the sea – always there and generally only minutely changing and shifting.”

“Alright. I can understand that.”

“Your and Sam’s auras were always the same. Then you went to hell. They… they didn’t match so well after that.”

Dean snorted at the pixie’s hesitance. “After what I did in hell, I’m sure they didn’t.”

“You didn’t...” The piske stopped abruptly, frustrated. He knew better than to try to convince a Winchester they were wrong about anything. “When Sam got his soul back after his own trip, they matched again.”

“Trip? It wasn’t a vacation, you know.”

“I know, Dean. It was tragic what happened to Sam. We’d never seen an aura so… damaged.”

“How do you even know all this about us anyway? We didn’t even meet fairies until Sam got back. So how do you have any clue what our auras looked like before then?”

“Just because you don’t know of someone Dean, doesn’t mean they don’t know about you.”

“What?”

“Like it or not, you and your family are as much myths of legend to us as we are to you.”

“What?”

“I always thought you were the silver tongue between you and Sam, but now I’m starting to wonder.” The piskie smiled, proud at his joke, but shrieked when Dean abruptly lunged for him. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I was just trying to lighten things up!”

“My brother was...was...he has a uterus!” Dean yelled, “with my baby inside it! My _brother_! Things will never “lighten up” again!” Even Dean’s air quotes were frantic. “And this is all your fault!” Dean lunged again.

“No! It wasn’t us, it was the fae!”

“You’re all the same!”

“Dean! Dean stop!” Foster screamed frantically. “Killing me won’t help anything!”

“It would sure make me feel better!”

“No, it wouldn’t Dean.” Foster stopped flying. “You know it wouldn’t.”

“Just get on with it,” Dean sighed. “Finish what you were telling me.”

“Your family isn’t just known as hunters, though that’s of the most importance to the majority of us. Few creatures have ever gone to hell and made their way back without being twisted.” The pixie paused for a moment. “That kind of thing destroys a creature, Dean. No matter what kind you are. You’re one of very few to make it through that unchanged.”

Dean scoffed. “I’m far from unchanged, Foster.”

“I know you think that, Dean, but remember that through auras we can basically see your soul. It’s been damaged, that’s a fact, but it’s still as strong and sure as it used to be.”

“What about...what about Sam?”

The pixie hesitated. “His aura… His aura is changing.”

“What does that mean?”

“We didn’t realize how… how devastating this child would be to him. You’ve got to save him, Dean. Before it’s too late.”

“What are you saying?”

“He has such hate right now. We don’t really know where it comes from. A child is a wonderful thing.”

“Not when you’re a man and the baby is your brother’s.”

“So that’s the problem,” the pixie muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Dean, you and Sam are in a hard place right now. We know how difficult this is for you. But you...” The pixie stopped and made a noise of frustration. “If you can’t accept the love you have, it’s going to end up as hate. It almost always does.”

“We do accept it. We grew up with it. What are you going on about?”

“You’re more than brothers, Dean. And you know that, deep down. So does Sam.”

“Why you...”

Foster flew out of Dean’s grasp. “Don’t tell me there wasn’t a moment when you realized it didn’t feel as wrong as it should have.”

Dean stopped reaching for the pixie. “What?” he asked warily. Surely they couldn’t…

“No, we don’t read minds, Dean. But a blind man could see there’s more than brotherhood between you and Sam.”

Dean dropped back to the ground, his head in his hands.

“Dean. You humans are funny creatures. So worried about what’s right and what’s wrong. Basing your beliefs on a creature that walked right out of heaven and didn’t even bother to tell you where he was going. Listen to your heart, Dean. Before it’s too late. For all of us.”

“What do Sam and I and our supposed grand love have to do with you?”

“What does the world look like if you and Sam hate each other Dean?”

Dean didn’t answer.

“It’s not one any of us live through, I promise you that.”

The pixie settled on the ground beside Dean. Dean couldn’t bring himself to speak again.

“I have to go,” Foster said after a while. “Call my name again if you need me.”

Dean nodded.

**

Dean glanced at his phone a little later. Lunchtime. Sam would definitely be up by now. He hadn’t really meant to be gone so long but he’d needed the time. And if he happened to stop by a store to start stockpiling necessary baby items, Sam would understand.

He stopped for some food and went back to the room. Sam seemed surprised when Dean walked in.

“Sammy?”

Sam avoided his eye, closing his laptop and making room on the table for the food Dean brought in.

“What’s wrong?” Dean flinched and cursed himself the moment those words left his mouth. “You know what I mean.”

“I know.” Sam busied himself with divvying up lunch from the bags. “Everything’s fine.”

Dean picked up his burger and let things lie for the few minutes it took them to finish eating. “Sam.”

“What.”

“Things are not fine. “

“They’re as fine as they’re ever going to be again.”

“I don’t accept that, Sam.”

“Excuse me?” Sam stood abruptly. “You don’t accept that?”

“Sam...”

“No, Dean, let’s unpack that, shall we?”

“ _I’m_ the one that’s pregnant, Dean. I’m the _man_ carrying his brother’s incestuous spawn, _Dean_. I’m the one that has to deal with all of this, and you _can’t accept it_?”

“Alright, now look...”

“Fuck you, Dean. You know, I put up with your high and mighty bullshit any other time, but not this time. Not when it’s my life and my body on the line. This? This is something you have nothing to do with.”

“Nothing to do with me? You’re my _brother_ , Sam, and that’s my baby, too!”

“Only because you couldn’t keep your fucking hands to yourself!” Sam strode toward Dean. “Why, just once, couldn’t you fucking listen before you rushed in to save me?” He stopped inches from Dean and leaned in. “This is all your fault!”

“All my… Don’t you dare, Sam.”

“Oh, I dare. I one hundred percent dare.”

“Of course you do, because you know I can’t hit you with the fucking Golden Child bubbling away in there.”

Sam scoffed, still up in Dean’s space. “You wouldn’t do it anyway. Wouldn’t want to hurt your _precious baby_ , would you?”

“You need to get out of my face, Sam, or I swear to god.”

“Sure, go ahead, swear to god, that’s gonna do a lot of good.”

“Sam...”

Sam got a calculating look in his eye. “Why am I the only one so upset by this?”

“What?”

“Why aren’t you as mad as I am?”

Dean stiffened. “Of course I am, Sam, I just know both of us can’t fall apart at the same time. One of us has to keep it together and be a functioning adult.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Really, Dean? Are you sure that’s all it is?”

Dean snarled. “What else would it be, Sammy?”

“The fae just made it so you impregnated your own brother, Dean, no way you’re just okay with this.”

“Oh, I am not okay. I am far from okay with this.”

“Where did you go this morning?”

“What? I left a note...”

“Yeah, your note said you wanted to clear your head. You were gone for hours. I wasn’t...” Sam swallowed loudly, this throat clicking. “I thought you might not be coming back.”

“What? I wouldn’t just leave you like that, Sam! What’s wrong with you? I’d never...”

“You have before.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

“Yes. I wasn’t myself, first of all, and secondly, I _told_ you I was leaving in that note. I would never just leave you without a word.”

“But you would leave.”

“I...no, that’s not what I said.”

“You said you wouldn’t leave me without a word.”

“Sammy. Sammy, no. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What if I leave?”

“Wha...” Dean had to stop to take a moment. “Are you going to?”

“I thought about it,” Sam said, his eyes now on Dean’s chest and his hands unconsciously petting over Dean’s jacket, smoothing non-existent wrinkles. “I thought I’d just go. Take this...this freak kid and just go. Maybe...maybe that would be better, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t th...”

“I’d have the kid and...and if I...if I survived, I’d find him a nice home, you know, with good people who will love him and then, maybe...”

“ _If you survived_...why...Sammy, why are you saying this?” Dean grabbed Sam’s chin, forcing his head up. “Sam, I know it’s fucked up, but that is my kid, you know? I don’t want you to go!”

“Which one of us would you miss the most?”

“What? Sammy, that’s...that’s not fair.”

“None of this is fair. Answer the question.”

“Sammy. I...” They were interrupted by the shrill ring of Dean’s phone. Without looking he wrestled it from his pocket and answered it. “What? This better be important!”

Sam stepped away from Dean, walking to the table and cleaning up the remains of their lunch. Dean’s eyes tracked him everywhere he went in the small room. “Isn’t there someone else that can do this, Bobby? Sam and I kind of have something we need to work out.”

Sam could hear Bobby’s voice from across the room. “Alright, fine. We’ll be there. No need to get so cranky. I just asked if...”

Dean was talking to a dial tone. “I swear to god...”

“What’s the job?”

“Haunted house in Virginia. Should just be a simple salt and burn. Apparently, there’s no one else on the fucking east coast that can take care of it though.” Dean threw his phone on the bed and followed it, scrubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“At least it’ll be fast. Bobby sending info?”

“Yeah, you should have an email.”

Sam sat down and got to work.

**

“So yeah, it sounds like a simple in and out. Salt and burn, maybe an exorcism if the bones are hard to find. It’s a historic spot, so there might be more than one, of course, but it doesn’t seem too complicated.”

“What’s the story?”

“During the Civil War, the Union camped a short distance from where a farmer just happened to be, and he overheard a plan that would have severely crippled the southern troops. He couldn’t get away without it being too suspicious, so he sent his daughter,” Sam checked his notes, “Molly Tynes, to warn the Confederates. She took off and did a Paul Revere, and the Union attack was defeated and they were driven back.”

“Okay, so she died in the house?”

“No, I don’t think so. She and her husband lived in West Virginia, I believe. She’s buried in the town, though. It’s likely her parents died there, though.”

“Hmm, so do we think they’re the ones haunting the house?”

“We don’t really know.”

“Well, okay then. So what about these hauntings? Any info on that?”

“Mostly simple stuff – apparitions, voices, unexplained shadows, cold spots. Typical stuff.”

“You said mostly.”

“Well, yeah, there is something a little weird. Most people that go into the house are fine or just see these kinds of poltergeist instances. There’s not been any harm that we know of to people or their things, so it seems to be pretty benign.” Sam shuffled through something on his laptop. “There have been certain people though, that are affected a lot more in the house than others.”

“Affected how?”

“Rage.”

“I’m sorry, rage?”

“Yeah. And other things, too, but mostly rage. They go into the house, things are fine, and then bam! They want to kill pretty much anyone around them, or they’re suddenly so depressed they can’t seem to function.”

“Wow. Are they fine once they leave the house?”

“No. Whatever it is, it lessens when they’re away from the house, but it still seems like, and I’m quoting here, “something trying to control my thoughts”. However they’re affected, it lasts for three full days from the time they entered the house.”

“Wow. Okay. Soooo, they just, what, isolate themselves or whatever for three days then they’re fine?”

“Yeah. It just...” Sam gestured. “Poof. Goes away.”

“Freaky.”

“Yeah, a paranormal research team visited the house a few years ago.”

“Oh, god, were they the Ghostfacers?”

“No, Dean. I watched a couple videos they did about the house. They’re majorly small time, but they seemed pretty legit.”

Dean looked at Sam with his eyebrows raised.

“I’m just telling you, they seemed reasonable with the things they found and the tools they used. That’s all I’m saying. Something like nine people went and three of them were affected strangely.”

“Affected how?”

“One got mean, one got severely depressed, and one it just says they started acting so strangely that even their partner noticed something was going on.”

“All lasted for three days?”

“Yep. Three days and it was just gone.”

“That’s something. What do you think it is? A demon maybe?”

“I don’t know, would it be? I mean what happens do they just get bored after three days and go looking for someone else?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Anything else happen?”

“People felt something touch them, they heard noises, whispering. That sort of thing.”

“Hmm. Sounds like it’s right up our alley then.”

“Bobby wouldn’t have sent us otherwise.”

Dean snorted. “He would have sent us just to annoy us. You know that.”

“True.” Sam paused for a moment. “Dean? We need to stop somewhere soon. I’m hungry.”

And just like that, the topic they’d been trying to avoid for hours, was front and center once again.

“Sure, Sammy. Sure. I’ll stop as soon as I see something good.”

“Thanks.”

**

Dean found a diner about half an hour later. It wasn’t until Sam was storming back to the car that he realized something had gone wrong.

“Sam? What’s wrong now?”

Sam spoke through clenched teeth. “You held my chair for me, Dean.”

“What? No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, Dean, you did. You also ordered for me.”

“I did?”

“I’m not your wife, Dean.”

Dean didn’t know how to respond. “Sammy...”

“No. Let’s just get going. We have a long way to go.”

“I really need to rest, Sam, we can find a...”

“No. I’m fine. I’ll drive while you sleep.”

“What? No, Sam, you don’t need to stress...”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I don’t know...”

“We’re not dating, Dean. You didn’t knock me up. You get that, don’t you?”

Dean sputtered. “Of course I do, what…”

“Then stop acting like we are and give me the keys.”

Incapable of speech, Dean handed Sam the keys and climbed in the back seat. Was he really treating Sam like the...Dean’s thoughts skidded to a halt. He’d almost referred to his brother as the mother of his child. Shit. Things were so fucked up. Were they ever going to recover?

It took him an entire state and half of another before he could finally fall asleep.

**

“Dean,” Sam called.

Dean jerked awake, instantly in the moment. "Where are we?” He could tell it was well into the next day by the bright sunshine baking the inside of the car. “Why didn't you wake me?"

Sam smiled at him distractedly. "We're almost there. Another half hour or so."

Dean stretched and settled back in the seat. "I thought you said we were heading for Virginia. Where is this?"

"There's more to Virginia than the beach and the suburbs of DC, Dean."

"Huh. Imagine that."

Sam snorted and flipped on the radio. Dean grabbed the photocopied notes they had on the case so far and read through them again. "It's a poltergeist, Sammy. That's it. Probably just a really bored one that likes to play with people’s heads. Open and shut, easy burn – eh, you know what I mean."

"I know, Dean, but there's apparently never been anyone around here that knew how to get rid of Casper the Not So Friendly. So, here we are."

Dean glanced up at the farms and mountains passing by the windows. "Yeah, here we are. How far to the motel, Sammy. Just stop at the first one you see. I want to get in and out. Probably don't even have Casa Erotica here."

Sam laughed. "Uh, there's only one motel here, Dean. Shouldn't be too hard to decide where to go."

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "Seriously? One motel? Awesome. I don't think that Rufus' cabin was this isolated."

"Please. This is like a major city next to the cabin. Stop acting like you've never been in a small town before."

Dean laughed as Sam pulled off the highway and headed into town.

Thirty minutes later, they had checked into their room and were headed out to scope out the house and pick up some fast food for supper.

"No diner? How can there not be a diner? Who doesn't have diners?"

"They have a café, Dean. We could go there."

"A café? No, Sam. No _café_. Just point me to a Wendy's and I'm good." Dean stopped. “They do have a Wendy’s right?”

Sam pulled up the browser on his phone quickly. “Yes, Dean, they aren’t that small.”

“Thank god.” Dean turned back to him. “Come on, then. I don’t have all day you know, I’m starving.”

**

They pulled up a rocky driveway to get to the Molly Tynes house – the historic marker across from the driveway the only thing that lead them to the house.

“What kind of place doesn’t show up on GPS?”

“Why are you being such a diva on this trip?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. We’ve been plenty of places just like this.” Sam knocked on the door then continued. “So, what’s going on?”

“I’m just...” Dean paused. “I’m unsettled right now, okay? I’m having a little bit of trouble dealing with everything, okay?”

Sam sighed. “I get it. But what are we going to do, later on, Dean?”

“What do you mean later on?”

“What’s going to happen when I start to...” Sam knocked again, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. “What about when I start to show?”

Dean started to answer, but the door opening stopped him. Thankfully. Honestly, he’d had no idea what to even say.

They took a quick look around. One of Bobby’s friends had called him about the haunting, so the owners knew why they were there. That always made things easier.

The family had lived in the house for almost a year. They’d all heard unexplained noises, but they’d actually had to send their son away to live with another family member. He was ten and had started having fits of anger and violence about a month after they moved in. They had him medically tested, psychologically evaluated and put him through behavior modification therapy. Nothing helped. At their wit’s end, they’d sent their son to an Aunt and Uncle who lived five states away. After a few days, their son was fine, though he had relapses any time he came to visit.

Heartbroken, the parents could only conclude that whatever his problem was, it was with them. Unbeknownst to them, one of their old friends was a hunter and stopped by one day for his yearly visit. When he asked after their son, the mother had broken down and cried. After some pointed questions and conversation, the hunter called Bobby.

The couple agreed to stay the night with friends and Dean and Sam made plans to come back and take care of their problem after dark. When the mother cried this time, it was in relief.

**

Since they had no way of knowing exactly who was haunting the house or why Sam quickly made up some hex bags that would exorcise anything in the house permanently. They’d need to be placed in all four corners of the house on every floor. Once placed, nothing evil would be able to stay.

"Let's do it easy – north, south, east and then west on each floor. I’ll do north and east. We should probably start at the top and work our way back down here so we can get out of here quick. God, I hope we can find easy places to put them." Sam had been concerned, but the first two flights really posed no problem. There were plenty of areas big enough for Sam to make an easy hole in the wall and drop the bag in place. Dean didn’t have any problem either.

In fact, it had taken them less than an hour. Sam tapped Dean on the shoulder and motioned him to follow him to the basement. They were almost done.

Dean nodded absently, shifting his flashlight and the sawed-off as he followed Sam down into the basement. He was starting to feel a little strange, and he made a note to talk to Sam about it when they’d finished placing the bags. That was about the time the poltergeist, undoubtedly awakened by the magic of the hex bags encroaching on his territory, saw fit to attack.

Sam felt a rush of cold air, and suddenly there was something wrapped around his forearm. He had just a moment to reach for Dean, and then he was being yanked from the stairs. It wasn't all that long a drop, but he was stunned just long enough for the railing to pull free and come down on his lower leg with agonizing force. "Fuck," he shouted, trying to keep the gun pointed at different spots around him, even though he had no idea where the poltergeist was.

He didn't even see the toolbox coming until it struck his head and plunged him into darkness. The last thing he remembered was wondering what happened to the baby’s magic that was supposed to keep him safe and the fact that he dropped his shotgun after the blow.

Dean heard Sam's pained shout and came running. "Sam? No! Fuck!" Dropping down beside Sam, Dean pulled the railing off Sam and shook him a little. "Sam? Hey, Sam! Wake up!” Dean looked around furtively for the poltergeist, his shotgun held at the ready. “Get up!” he hissed. “Dammit, Sam."

Glancing around him, Dean noticed the totality of their surroundings for the first time. The poltergeist's presence kept the air freezing and the room was unnaturally still and dank. The smell of rotten flesh and death hung on the air.

Sam groaned, trying and failing to focus on his brother as he slowly came around. "Did you get the last few bags?" he managed, trying to reach for the shotgun he'd dropped. "Dean, you gotta..." He tried to stand, Dean supporting him under his arms, but he found he couldn't even get to his knees, sharp pains shooting through his leg. "Fuck."

"Forget the ghost, Sam," Dean growled. "We need to get you the hell out of here! I'll send someone else after the stupid thing. Here, let me help you up." Dean reached for him, but Sam's pained voice cut him off.

Sam grunted. "Feels like it could be broken." He raised one hand to clutch at his head. "And, fuck my head is killing me. What hit me?"

"It looks like the stair railing fell on you, Sam. Then the ghost decided to throw a toolbox at your head.”

Sam groaned and renewed his struggle to rise.

“Take it easy,” Dean hissed. “Can you get up at all?"

Sam clutched at Dean's shirt, arms shaking as he tried to pull himself up on one leg. "Yeah, just... help."

Dean braced himself and reached for Sam, doing his best to help him lever himself off the floor. Suddenly, there was a horrible screeching and Dean felt something slice across his shoulder. "Fuck. The poltergeist, Sam. He's back!"

"Fuck," Sam answered, then looked at Dean. "You have to finish, man. The hex bags..."

"Sam, I..." Dean stopped. Sam was right. The ghost would never let them leave. He had to finish, but he didn't want to leave Sam alone and harmed. "I've got three more, Sam. Here. Take the shotgun and the holy water. Watch out for this thing, okay? I'll hurry. Fuck! I don't want to leave you here!"

Sam took them, carefully settling back on the ground, putting his back against the wall. "Go, Dean! And be careful!"

Steeling himself, Dean took off. He managed to place one hex bag before the walls started bleeding. "Jesus!" Dean yelled. "The fucking walls are bleeding! Sam! You okay? You seeing this shit?"

There was only silence from Sam's corner of the basement. The blow to the head had made him pass out again. Thankfully, the poltergeist seemed to be leaving him alone in favor of stopping Dean.

Dean was getting really pissed off now. Running to the third corner, he drove his boot through the drywall and threw the bag in place. The screeching increased, and the blood was pouring down the walls. The smell of rotting meat was so strong Dean was close to gagging. Considering the things he’d smelled in his history that was saying a lot.

Running to the last wall, Dean slid to a stop. Fuck. It was concrete. Quickly searching the basement for something to use to break the block, Dean ran for a sledgehammer and was on his way back to the last wall. He was almost there when things started flying around the room.

Cursing, Dean ran to Sam and dragged him as far under the steps as he could, hoping they'd offer him a little shelter from the flying debris and the cold. Struggling back to the wall, Dean swung twice, cracking the block, before he felt icy hands around his throat. Shit. He wasn't going to make it.

He felt around his pocket for his flask of holy water and threw it into the ghost’s face, and reached down and grabbed his shotgun when the poltergeist pulled away in fury at the burning in its face. He fired quickly into the ghost until it disappeared.

Gripping the shotgun between his legs to keep it close at hand, Dean grabbed the sledgehammer and went back to work, cheering a little when it finally broke through. As fast as he could, Dean pulled the hex bag from his pocket and shoved it into the wall. The poltergeist let out an aborted wail, and then there was silence.

Dean hurried over to Sam, anxious to get him out of here.

Sam was coming around again by the time Dean reached him, and he blinked blearily up at his brother. "You get it?" he asked, trying to sit up. "Man, I think I need a hospital. Your kid is a liar."

“What?”

“What happened to magic protecting the baby no matter what?”

"I don’t know, man. Maybe it only protects you when something is life-threatening. Here, let me help you up. Let’s get out of here." Dean eased Sam out from under the stairs and struggled to get him upright. "Need me to carry you?”

“I think a bloody toolbox to the head would count as life-threatening though, don’t you?”

“Apparently not. Come on, Sammy. I need you to focus. Can you do that? Just till we get out of here.”

"Leg hurts," Sam answered, voice a little slurred and shaky. "And my head, god, my head.” Dean could tell Sam was trying to focus. “Dean, you're gonna have to carry me I think." He took a shaky breath. "Don't think I can manage walking. Not like this."

"Okay, Sam. I'm going to get you over my shoulder and get us out of here. Can you hold the duffel?" Sam did, if weakly. "I'm hurrying, Sam."

A few minutes later, they reached the Impala, and Dean eased Sam to the ground. He weaved alarmingly. Dean manhandled his brother carefully into the back seat, then dug the keys out of his jacket.

Halfway to the hospital, Dean remembered. Sam was pregnant. What would they do if the hospital needed blood work on Sam? Would they accidentally find out? What about an x-ray? Would they know? Reaching for his cell, Dean called Bobby.

Bobby started cursing him for letting his brother get hurt at a simple exorcism, but quickly put him on hold then came back and said he knew someplace they could go. It was a well-staffed clinic that catered almost exclusively to hunters, and it was an hour away. Bobby gave Dean directions and they were on their way.

Sam could tell from the vibrations that Dean was pushing the Impala to her limits, and he grunted with each patch of uneven road they passed over. The world was wavering quite a bit, actually, and Sam knew he was drifting in and out of consciousness. He could barely hear Dean’s growling mutters as he seemed to talk to himself, and it scared him. It wasn't just himself at stake anymore, after all.

"Sorry," he mumbled, unsure if Dean heard.

Dean’s growled, “You should be,” proved he did. “What the fuck, Sam. You’re pregnant, you know?”

“I know. Dean, I...”

“No! I don’t want to hear it! It’s just one thing after another with you, isn’t it? It’s bad enough you’re carrying my child, do you think you could not try to kill it while you’re at it?”

Sam realized it was probably residual energy from the house causing Dean’s anger, but his words cut to the quick. Sam didn’t respond.

Dean continued to rail at Sam, who tried valiantly not to reply but failed about a half an hour into Dean’s rant. He was on edge emotionally and in intense pain physically. He used that pain to strike back against Dean. Their confrontation got uglier and uglier.

He blamed Dean for what happened.

Dean blamed him for not wanting the baby and trying to murder it.

Sam answered with a scathing list of all the reasons he would never want a child with a man like Dean, completely ignoring the fact that having a child with _anyone_ male had never even briefly crossed his mind, and that Dean was the one who almost single-handedly raised him to adulthood.

That, blessedly, shut Dean up.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean pulled into the clinic's lot and rushed inside, yelling for help. Attendants eased Sam from the car and Dean explained to them what had happened as they ran inside. The doctor met Sam's gurney and in a moment, they had pulled him through the doors where Dean couldn't follow.

A friendly nurse came up to him. "Mr. Winchester? We're only going to stabilize your brother and see if we can fix him up. This was a poltergeist, right? Did he ever lose consciousness?"

Dean nodded dumbly and answered the woman's questions. He had to get to Sam.

Sam was somewhat aware of the bustle around him as they stabilized his neck and leg. They hooked him up to a heart and blood pressure monitor, and one of the doctors swore quietly.

"Dammit. His blood pressure is sky high," the doctor swore. "Get his brother back here. We're going to need to do more tests."

Dean was still talking to the nurse when a man rushed up to them. "Mr. Winchester? We need to see you in your brother's room, please."

Dean stood instantly. "What is it? Is Sam okay?"

"His blood pressure is a little high. We need to do a couple of tests and need your approval, that's all."

Dean followed the man anxiously not sure he was telling the whole truth.

Sam was barely awake when the doctor entered with Dean in tow, but he twitched his eyes toward his brother anyway. The neck collar kept him from moving anything else. They'd already pulled an oxygen tank close to the bed and started it flowing through tubing into his nose, even though he’d had no trouble breathing just fine on his own.

Dean swallowed when he saw Sam. Sam looked so hurt and he'd sworn it was just a headache and his leg. Any anger he had left abruptly vanished. Dean turned to the doctor. "You need to run more tests?"

"We do. His blood pressure is too high. We need to check his blood, do some chest and leg x-rays, an MRI of his head, and we need to start him on something for the pain and to get his blood pressure down."

Dean thought for a moment. Shit. What about the baby? Bobby swore they were one of the best hunter clinics in the country. What if they found out? Should they tell them? Dammit. _What_ would they tell them? "Doctor? I need to talk to my brother for a second...alone." The doctor nodded and everyone left the room.

"Sam?"Dean whispered. "What are we going to do about the baby? What if they find out? I mean, this is a place mostly for hunters, but I don’t know how they’d react to male pregnancy, you know?”

Sam nodded. “Baby has protection, right? Magic. They probably won’t even see him.” Sam stopped for a moment to cough. “He’ll protect himself and me, remember?”

“Well, it didn’t do such a good job this time, though did it?”

“Life-threatening, remember?”

Dean smiled and smoothed Sam’s hair back off his face. “Sam, listen, about the...about what happened in the car...”

“It’s okay. The house. I know. Go ahead and let the doctors do what they need to. We’ll deal with whatever happens.”

Dean nodded and went to get the doctor and nurses back into the room.

Sam's hand twitched toward Dean, and he nodded as best he could. "Do you have to leave?" he asked, knowing Dean would probably be forced to, at least for awhile, but dreading it immensely.

Dean grabbed Sam's hand. "No way. Until they haul you into x-ray or the tests, I'll be right with you. And even then, I'll be right outside the door. I'm not going anywhere, Sammy. Count on it."

The pain medication was a blessed relief, and Sam let himself fall asleep then, glad that Dean was right there with him. The cat scan of his head and the x-ray of his leg were done while he was out, and it was good news. He had some slight bruising from the toolbox, but no bleeding or issues with his brain, and the leg was only badly wrenched at the knee, not broken. A few more days, and he'd be able to walk, albeit with a brace on his knee and crutches for the next few weeks.

**

Sam was finally resting and his blood pressure was slowly returning to normal. Dean was relieved, and once the adrenaline and constant worry started to ease, he realized how tired he really was. Dean quickly sent a text to the owners of the house they’d exorcised and then called Bobby to give him an update. When he was done, Dean then settled into the barely comfortable chair to rest for a bit. Now if Sam would just stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, everything would be just fine.

**

Dean was dead to the world when Sam finally found himself able to focus through the fog of good drugs to glance around the room. "Hey, Dean. Dean, wake up?" he rasped, throat and nose dry from the oxygen they'd been giving him.

Dean jerked awake at the sound of his brother's voice. "Sam! You okay? You need anything? Anything hurt? I was so worried, Sam. About both of you. I'll feel better when we're out of here. When did the doctor say you could leave?"

"Couple more days," Sam answered. "My concussion should be gone by then. He wants me to try out the crutches tomorrow if I can. See how they do.”

The next day, Sam was released and they were headed to Bobby’s to give Sam plenty of time to heal.

**

On the way to Bobby’s, they got into another fight about whether to tell Bobby about the baby or not. Dean said they could use the help. Sam was adamant that no one know until he’d actually given birth. As expected, the argument had been vicious and full of spite.

Those weeks at Bobby’s were some of the longest of Sam’s life. Dean was still snappish and Sam was strung tight, just waiting for Dean to strike so he could hit back at him. As soon as Sam was well enough to walk unassisted, Bobby threw them out of his house, cursing them and telling them not to come back until they were over whatever foolishness was causing them to act this way.

They tried to apologize, but Bobby merely slammed his door in their face. Too little, too late. Like pretty much everything else in their life.

**

 


	2. Chapter 2

Later, Sam sat, wired and anxious, in the same place he'd sat off and on for most of his life. The Impala seat was comforting. It had been replaced more than once, but still cradled him; kept him company where his stiff, silent companion wouldn't. Sam spared a glance at his brother's steel jaw and clenched teeth, then turned his eyes to the world passing outside the window. 

There was a wall between them now – one built out of lies, anger, and circumstance. Sam regretted every brick in that wall even if it was him that put most of them there. But this wasn't the Berlin wall and wasn't coming down anytime soon. Tracing his fingers against the glass, Sam tried to focus on the passing scenery and not his silent brother.

Dean glanced over when he thought Sam wasn't looking at him, a deep shuddering breath leaving his body. He was angry; there was almost no room for another emotion in him. Sam. Fucking idiot. His brother. Blaming him for trying to save him just because he’d...Dean stopped. There was no  _just_ to it. His brother was having his baby. He deflated a little thinking about it, but one look at his brother’s face and it all came rushing back. After everything, this is what he got, from the one person whose ass he couldn't just leave.

The worst part was that he loved Sam, with every bone in him. Suspected, in fact, more than he’d ever thought. But it seemed no matter what, it just wasn't enough to surmount the wall between them. "You gonna say anything?" he rasped finally, harsh er than he'd meant to be, but Sam deserved it after attacking Dean. Deserved all the pain that Dean could muster. Didn’t he?

"What do you want me to say, Dean? Sorry? I'm so fucking sorry I said those things, Dean. You have no idea how sorry." Sam wouldn't look at Dean. It would be too much. "I know it wasn’t all your fault. I know it. I know it. I do, I just...” Sam turned back to the window. “You probably should leave us." Sam dropped his head. "If we can’t figure this out, you should just let me go. I can't...I can't live like this. We can’t live like this. The guilt, the pain, the hatred are just too much. I can't..."

Sam let his voice trail off. It was pointless to have this non-discussion. Dean, asking all the wrong questions and Sam with all the wrong answers. They were miles apart already, and Sam knew it was probably best if he just left Dean alone. But he just couldn't quite bring himself to take that first step. Couldn't quite leave his brother – even with the viciousness, and the silence and Dean's horrible, soul- d eep disappointment. 

Dean's chest clenched painfully at the sound of Sam's voice, the despair in it. His eyes burned, and he looked steadily out the front window, jaw tight. When he spoke, his throat sounded clogged. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. "I don't hate you, Sam." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I could never hate you.” 

"Dean, I..." Sam stuttered to a stop. He could see the love and anguish written across Dean's face, but was it enough? Really? Would it be enough to close this god-awful distance between them? "I believe you." He paused for a second. "I...I don’t hate you either. I love you, Dean." He held his breath as he waited for Dean's reply.

Dean smiled broadly. The weight lifted from his chest, and he reached out, gripping Sam's shoulder. "So, what do you say? Wanna find a place to crash? Try to work this out? We can call that pixie, check out the...have him check you out. Nevada’s a long way away." At this point, Dean didn't want to drive anymore, and he figured they could both use the downtime.

Sam was happy. They might work this out after all. "Yeah, jerk. Some of us aren't tiny little things and need to stretch their legs every once in a while." At Dean's outraged look, Sam turned back to his window, but this time it was to hide a smile.

Dean could pretend he was upset by the jab, but his grin kept giving him away, and he pulled into the first place he saw. A little nicer than their usual place, but he figured they deserved it. "Wanna get a room? " he asked Sam. "I'll grab the stuff."

Sam grinned, then headed to the office to get them checked in. The teen at the counter glanced outside then smirked at Sam. "King or two Queens?"

_What the hell? Why did everyone ask that?_ "Two Queens," Sam gritted, glaring at the desk clerk. The boy just snorted and muttered something under his breath. Five minutes later, he handed Sam the room keys and waved as he turned to go. "Y'all have a nice night, now. Checkout is at 11 am."

Sam may have slammed the door on his way out hard enough to rattle the glass.

"Whoa," Dean said, waiting outside the door with the duffles. "What did the door ever do to you, man?"

"It wasn't the door, it was that stupid snot-nosed brat at the counter. Same shit, man. If I hear King or two Queens one more time, I swear I'm going to show someone why exactly why they used to believe in human sacrifices so much."

Dean winked at him. "Maybe we should say King some time, just to mess with people." He bumped his shoulder against Sam's, turning to head for the room.

Sam smiled distractedly but was caught up  in the thought of sharing a bed with Dean. Sure, they'd done it all the time when they were younger and hunting with Dad. It hadn't been a big deal. Until puberty, that is, Sam thought. Then it was a really big deal. Snorting, Sam thought of all those nights spent trying desperately to hide his hard-on from his brother. Groaning at the memory, Sam followed Dean into the room, ignoring the look Dean shot his way.

Dean dropped the bags on the table, kicking off his shoes and collapsing with a sigh on the nearest bed. "Nice mattresses, dude. Been a long time since we had one of those." He stretched, his shirt riding up slightly, then gestured at the TV. "Toss me the remote?"

Sam tried to keep his eyes off Dean's flat stomach, but couldn't help staring for a few moments. Huh. His brother really didn't have any scars now. Shaking himself from his stupor, Sam tossed Dean the remote. "Yeah, I'm going to..." His voice trailed off as he gestured vaguely toward the bathroom.

Dean's brow furrowed in concern; he'd expected a smart remark, not the remote. "You okay Sammy?"

Sam stopped gathering the things he needed for just a second. "Sure, man. Sure. Just, you know, a tough day. Damn chick flick moments take a lot out of you, you know." Sam threw a quick but genuine smile at Dean. "Besides, all that Zeppelin today gave me a headache." 

Dean chuckled, laying back and turning on the TV. "Just don't use all the hot water."

Sam smirked and turned to Dean just before slamming the door shut. "Should have called first shower, man. Gotta wash my hair, you know."

Dean snorted and acted like he was going to make a run for the bathroom door. Sam just laughed and slammed the door.

**

Sam came out and assured Dean there was still plenty of hot water. Dean pointed as if to say, there better be, then headed to the shower. Sam dressed quickly for bed and then settled down to find something on TV while he waited for Dean. Without realizing it, he drifted off.

A noise woke him a little bit later. Sam stretched, scrubbing his eyes and rubbing his hands through his hair. Sitting up, he glanced toward Dean and promptly started to stare.

Dean had obviously just showered and was rummaging through his bag with just a towel wrapped around his hips. Sam couldn't stop staring at the shape of his brother's back and the way his muscles moved as he searched for clothes. Beads of water Dean had missed slipped down his back and drew Sam's eye down the thick length of muscle. Sam's eyes coasted over Dean's strong legs and then back up as Dean turned a bit to reach for something in his duffle.

Sam dropped his eyes, quickly, horrified that he’d been staring at the towel cloaked bulge of Dean’s cock. He dropped back to the mattress and clapped his hands over his face, scrubbing as if he could remove the sight from his memory. It didn’t work. What was happening to him?

Dean stared at Sam for a second. “You okay, Sammy? Sorry I woke you. You have a nightmare or something?”

 _Just caught myself staring at your cock, brother. That’s all._ Sam thought. _No big deal._ Aloud, he said, “Just disoriented, I guess. I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep. I’ll be okay.”

“Okay, Sammy. I’m gonna go get dressed. Then we need to...We need to talk.”

“Did it just kill you to say that?”

“Hell yeah, it did. You know I don’t do chick flick moments.”

Sam laughed, glad he’d been diverted from his earlier thoughts about his brother.

**

Dean dressed quickly, even though the last thing he actually wanted to do was talk to his brother about what was going on in their life right now. Oh, they were good at pretending things were fine. They’d been doing that for the last few hours like it was nothing. But pretending was all it was, and once they started talking…

Dean exhaled and leaned against the cool tiled wall. There were certain things that were not going to change – Sam was pregnant with his child, Sam was a man and shouldn’t be pregnant at all, and Dean was having a hard time keeping his hands off his brother. Every one of those things was awkward on their own. All together, they were driving him and his brother absolutely bonkers.

This talk would either clear everything up or finally be that straw that drove them apart. Straightening resolutely, Dean hoped it was the first because he wasn’t letting go of his brother or his baby. Shaking his still damp hair out one more time, he headed into the room.

**

Things were not going well. God knows Dean and Sam had enough trouble talking under normal circumstances, but when you add in the fact that one of them was pregnant by magic and blaming the other for treating him as a new-found wife (which Dean would deny to his dying breath, thank you very much), things were way more complicated than they could handle.

“Look, let’s just call Foster and see if he can help, okay?”

“Is that the pixie?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Do it. God knows we need help right now.”

And maybe Dean was more offended by that than he should be, but he dutifully called the pixie as he was taught.

“Hello, friends. Are you well?”

“We’re...” Dean paused then finally abandoned that line of conversation altogether. “We have some questions if that’s alright.”

“Of course. I’ll help you all I can. What would you like to know?”

“I got hurt a few weeks ago. Pretty badly. I thought you said the baby would protect me and itself?”

“I’m sorry you were hurt, friend. The injuries must not have been deadly. Otherwise, the majick would have taken over.”

“I see. That’s what we thought.”

“Anything else?”

“What’s going to happen when I start to show?” Sam blurted out.

“It’s early still, are you showing already?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m just wondering how I’m supposed to live my life when I do start to show? Will I just look fat?”

“Well,” Foster started, clearly puzzling through Sam’s question. “No, you wouldn’t really look fat because only your stomach would gain most of the weight. You might look like you have, what is that you humans call it? A beer belly?”

“Great. Just great.”

Dean winced in sympathy at the thought of his health nut brother having to cart around a “beer belly” for the last few months of his pregnancy. “Isn’t there anything your magic can do?”

“You mean like make him a woman during his pregnancy?”

“No!” Sam yelped.

“No,” Dean answered more sedately. “I mean like hiding his belly with a….a glamour or something.”

“A glamour?” the pixie asked.

“That’s a vampire thing, Dean,” Sam interjected.

“Oh, well whatever. You know, hide it so no one can see it. Don’t you little people have magic like that?”

Foster looked askance at Dean for a moment, then said he would have to consult someone with better understanding of majick and that he would return promptly with an answer. Sam and Dean were asleep when he came back. He was almost squashed several times trying to wake them up.

“They’re working on something for you, Sam. It will be a piece of jewelry, blessed and infused with majick to make sure that only you and your one true lo-, I mean, Dean will be able to see your true form. Everyone else will see your physical body the same as it was when you put on the jewelry.”

“Way to go, little guy,” Dean said, raising his fist for a bump.

Foster just huffed and turned back to Sam. “You mustn’t take it off, or they will see your true self. Okay? They’ll probably have something for you in the next few weeks. It’s fine majick. And ancient. And the jewelry will need to be finely crafted so it can contain the majick properly. It will take a little time. I do need...” The pixie hesitated for a moment. “I need something from the two of you for the spell to work properly.”

“What?” Sam asked, faintly suspiciously.

“Just a strand of hair from both of you. The jewelry and majick needs to be tuned to both of you to work.”

“And that’s all you’re going to use it for?” Dean growled.

“Of course.” Foster hurried to assure him. “The hairs will be destroyed in the creation of the spell.”

“Alright. Anything special you need? The root or anything?”

“No, just the hair will be just fine.” Foster held up a pouch, small to Dean and Sam, almost as large as the pixie to Foster. Smiling, he concentrated for a moment, then the pouch disappeared. “Was there anything else you needed to know?”

“How will I give birth?” Sam asked quickly, not looking at either Dean or the pixie.

“I’m not sure, Sam. The child will know. They will find a way to let you know everything you need to.”

“How...”

“Usually through feelings or actual whispers. Dreams, maybe visions. The majick is very powerful and it tailors itself to every wom- to each person and their situation. It will keep you and your baby safe, and it will let you know when it is time.”

“Well, that’s just great.” Sam scrubbed his hands over his face. “So I’m going to look perfectly normal to everyone else, but really be waddling around with a giant belly until the kid whispers to me he’s ready to come out? So then I’ll just suddenly have this kid.” Sam glanced at Dean. “We’re going to have to come up with a story where the kid came from.”

Dean just nodded.

“You call the babe “he”. Did the child tell you that?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered. “He just seems like a boy.”

Foster beamed. “It is just as we thought. Your child is strong. Stronger even than we expected.” The pixie flew close to Sam and placed his tiny hand on Sam’s head. “As a heart begins to beat and a mind begins to grow, may your own heart and mind rejoice in the wonder of this gift.” _(Pregnancy Prayer, Month 2)_

Neither Dean or Sam knew what to say. It hadn’t really hit either one yet that their baby was a real breathing, growing being. Their eyes found each other’s and held. Foster smiled softly and left. Sam was the first to settle back into bed, Dean following right after in his own.

Both pretended to sleep until the sun crept under the flimsy motel curtain.

**

_**New Mexico, Two weeks later** _

"I'm sorry. You think I'm going to do what exactly?"

"It's like two miles. It's not going to kill you."

"Two miles? In these shoes? Seriously? No. Go by yourself. I'll stay here."

"Markie. You can't stay here. Don't be stupid. Come on."

"Stupid? Did you just call me-"

"Don't start with me. You know what-"

"Why the hell did I ever come with you? Every time I think you're getting-"

"Getting what? Better? I told you. I am like I am. You wouldn't expect a soldier to-"

"If you finish that sentence I'm going to strangle you with that fan belt, I swear to God."

"Look, just…let's go. It'll be dark soon, and I don't want to miss the game because of your nonsen…Markie! Come on! What are you… Seriously? You're going to lock the doors? On a…" Matthew looked around to make sure no one is around and lowered his voice to a hiss. "On a Czechoslovakian? Do you realize how stupid that is?"

Matthew raised his hand and unlocked the door. Markie locked it back. Matthew unlocked it. Markie locked it back. Matthew raised his hand again, but the glare on Markie's face stopped him. "Fine. Whatever. If you'd just let me fix the damn thing to begin with, we'd be home right now!" Matthew's voice rose as he spoke until he was just about bellowing the last word as he stomped off down the road.

Markie frantically opened her door and bounced out onto the pavement. "If you "fixed it" like you did the last time, the car would probably have exploded!" She screamed to Matthew's back, then searched for something to throw at him. Dammit. Where was all the roadside trash when you needed it? "What is this? The only clean stretch of road in New Mexico? This is ridiculous." Markie muttered but gave up as Matthew disappeared around the corner. "Worst boyfriend in the world. IN THE WORLD, Matthew!"

Markie huffed and then headed back to her car to wait for Matthew.

**

"Are you nuts? No!"

"What? It's the Billy the Kid Museum! What do you mean, no?"

"Remember when I wanted to stop at the world's largest frying pan? Huh? Remember what you said then?"

"This is Billy the Kid, Sam, not some half-assed skillet stuck in the middle of Corn Town, USA!"

"Corn T- No, you know what? Just no. You never do what I want to do, and we have a JOB, Dean. Do you remember that? How many people you going to let die while you're wandering around looking at leather chaps and rusted out spurs?" Sam snapped his mouth shut when Dean sent him a withering glare and turned up the radio, Led Zeppelin's _Traveling Roadside Blues_ blaring through the sudden quiet.

Sam sat, staring out the window, mired in regret, but too stubborn to say anything. He should have never said that. If there was one thing that he never had to remind Dean of, it was saving lives. It weighed on Dean every hunt they got, especially now. The people they couldn't save, the ones that died before they knew what they were looking for, hell, even the ones that had died before they were even aware there were people that needed saving.

It was like Dean thought he should automatically know about any and every death in their area, and stop it before it could even happen. Dean didn't say anything about it, of course, but then again Dean never said anything that wasn't snarky as hell or directly about a monster.

Sam gritted his teeth and almost imperceptibly banged his head on the passenger side window. He wasn't going to be able to do this. The tension between him and Dean was growing faster than their baby. He loved his brother, god knows he did – too much, really, but they couldn't seem to stop sniping at each other.

Sam wondered sometimes how he and Dean were ever going to make it without saying something the other just couldn't forgive. Sam refused to look at Dean, but he knew just what he'd look like – jaw granite hard and teeth ground tight. If it was like usual, when they stopped, one of them would make some inane comment about the diner or the weather or something they saw, and the other would grasp at it like a lifeline, setting yet another hurt aside.

Eventually, the hurts they'd piled up inside were going to outnumber the good things they had going for them. The silences were getting longer, and the time between fights was getting shorter. Sam knew part of it was his fault. The way he was feeling, the baby, the things he wanted; they were getting to him. Guilt and despair made him short with Dean and his ways.

Sam could no longer overlook things he used to think were funny or disgusting or annoying, but had still let go. He was snappish and rude but just couldn't seem to stop. At first, Dean was bemused, irritated but still tolerant of "Sammy's bitchiness" as he liked to call it. But as time wore on and Sam wore down, Dean became less able to brush off his brother's unusual bitterness and hostility. Dean started snapping back more and more often.

Sam understood, but couldn't help the hurt that seemed to just make everything worse. Pretty soon, he and Dean were coming up with excuses to spend more time apart. They were about ten steps away from separating altogether. Sam was terrified, but couldn't seem to stop the downward slide they were on, and there was no way in hell he could tell Dean what was really going on with him. He'd rather jump back into hell.

**

After an hour or strained silence, Dean's attention was snagged by the sight of a compact car stranded on the side of the road. Checking the mile marker, Dean noticed that not only was the car right in the spot where all the victims had gone missing, but it was fast approaching the time of day where most of the attacks happened. Cursing, Dean pulled up behind the parked car to investigate.

"Stay here, Sammy. I'm just going to see if anyone is around here and see if I can get them to leave before something happens."

"Okay, Dean." Well, at least they were speaking. That was a major improvement.

**

Markie heard the rumble of a car pulling up behind her, and felt in her purse for her mace. She was ready to wave off someone just trying to be helpful, but she was also not afraid to mace him if he turned out to be a little too persistent. Watching the man climb out of the driver's seat, though, Markie's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. _Yowza_ , she thought to herself. _I'd let him help me out any day._ She was still giggling when he knocked on her window.

"Well, hello, beautiful. Car trouble?"

Markie rolled her window down just enough for him to hear her. "Yeah. My boyfriend has gone to buy a new belt. He's on his way back right now."

Dean nodded at the lady. "Okay. My name's Dean, and gigantor back there is my brother Sam. It's getting dark out here, and there have been several accidents around this stretch of road. We're gonna to just hang out in the Impala until your boyfriend comes back." Dean paused and winked at Markie. "Just to make sure nothing gets a pretty little lady like you."

Markie snorted. "Really? Are you always like this?"

Dean smiled, "Nah. Sometimes I'm worse." Tipping an imaginary hat, Dean strode back to the Impala. Sliding in, he told Sam about the situation. "She's waiting on her boyfriend to get back with a part. We're going to hang out here until he gets back. I'm going to grab a few things out of the trunk just in case. Check your weapons, but keep them down out of sight."

"Sure, Dean." A minute later, Dean was back with a duffle full of weapons and they discretely made sure they were all loaded and working and in good shape. Dean had just slid the last gun in the duffle when they were startled by a knock on the window. Dean's hand clenched around the gun and he whipped his head around to see who was pounding on the window.

The girl was smiling at them and mouthing something. Dean quickly rolled the window down.

"I'm bored," the girl said. "Whatcha doing?"

Dean glanced at Sam and rolled his eyes. Great. Now they needed to entertain her?

Turning back to the girl, Dean smiled and said, "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Markie." She smiled and reached out to shake. "Nice to meet you, Dean." Leaning down, she smiled at Sam and then reached across Dean to shake his hand as well. "And you must be Sam."

"Must be," Sam quipped. "How you doing?"

"Good."

"So, Markie. You really shouldn't be out like this. It's not safe." Dean shooed her from the door, then stepped out of the Impala. "The boogie man could come out of those trees and get you!" Dean laughed but was actually deadly serious.

"Please, with you…" Markie paused, "…big boys to protect me? I don't think so. I can't stand sitting in that car another second. I just wanted to talk to you a bit. Get my mind off being mad at my boyfriend so I don't murder him when he finally gets back."

"Mad, huh? What is he a jerk or something?" Dean leaned against the Impala and subtly motioned for Sam to join him.

Markie sighed. "Yeah. He tries. I know that, but he's just so…" Frustrated, she huffed. "Knowing him, he's probably somewhere watching the stupid game he wanted to see so badly. He probably forgot all about me!"

"Aw, come on now. How could he forget about you?"

Markie snorted. "You know what he bought me for Christmas last year? Do you? A bumper for my car. A bumper, Dean."

Dean stared blankly. That seemed like a pretty good gift to him. Thoughtful and very practical.

Sam started laughing. "You know what Dean bought me the last time we even celebrated Christmas? Porn magazines and a can of shaving cream."

"What?" Markie turned scandalized eyes toward Dean. "Seriously?" Suddenly, she slapped Dean upside the head. "You're just like my boyfriend, aren't you, Dean?"

"Ow, what the fuck?" Dean rubbed his head. "No, seriously. What the fuck? You don't even know me. You can't be slapping me upside the head!"

Markie just glared at Dean. "Sometimes stupidity just needs punished, Dean. No matter how long you've known somebody."

Dean turned on Sam who was laughing. "This is your fault, Sam. Tell her what you got me for Christmas. Go on, tell her!" Sam just laughed harder.

Markie planted her hands on her hips and scoffed even louder. "Men. Jesus. Just because you're pretty you think you can just do whatever you want and everyone else will just fall into line. I mean, what's up with that?" Markie began to pace. "And what's with making decisions without consulting other people? Huh? Why do you do that?" Her arms were flailing around her and she was practically stomping around on her sky-high platform sandals. "You just decide you should do something alone because the other person won't be "safe" anymore…" Markie actually used air quotes when she said this, steps becoming quicker and her body language getting stiffer and angrier. "…so you just, what take off and don't tell anyone? Just leave and go do things – dangerous things – on your own and then when you get caught, what do you say? Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was just trying to keep you safe.

"Well, HAH. Maybe I don't need safe, did you ever think of that? Maybe I just want to be with you! Did you ever consider that? I mean, hell, I put up with you this long you think I'm going to be put off by a little bit of danger? Hell no. You can protect me. I mean, shit. I'm not worried about that, at all! There's nothing in the world you'd ever let touch me. Why would I be afraid? It's just fucking selfish, that's what it is. Selfish…"

Dean and Sam had been fidgeting against the Impala, growing more and more uncomfortable as her tirade continued. Her complaint did more than strike a chord with the brothers, it took a sledgehammer and beat them upside the head. That was exactly one of Sam's biggest complaints.

Dean cleared his throat. "You know, keeping someone safe isn't a bad thing."

Markie whipped around and glared at Dean. She opened her mouth to retort, but Dean rushed on.

"Hear me out, here. Now, look, I don't know your boyfriend, but if he loves you even half and much as I do Sasquatch here, then there's nothing more important to him than keeping you safe. Especially now." Sam heard that loud and clear. Markie opened her mouth again, but Dean held up his hand to stop her. "No. No matter what you say, keeping your family or anyone you love safe is the most important thing. And maybe he's not good with words, and maybe he's awkward sometimes and maybe he doesn't always treat you like he should, but what you have to ask yourself is this: is he trying?" Markie and Sam were both silent.

"We don't know, sometimes, why you stay. You know? If he's like me, that is. I mean, you've got us, and we're not just rough around the edges, but all the way through. We're hard and jagged at the core, too, and we don't know what to say to you, and we don't know what it is you want unless you just come right out and say it. But you never do, do you? You want us to just figure it out. And we don't buy you pretty things when we should because maybe we just don't know how. Maybe we're afraid, you know? That pretty things will somehow break or not be pretty anymore just because we touched them. You know?"

Sam stared at Dean, lost in what he was saying and the sound of his voice – hard and gritty, deep and dark. "We're just confused. If your boyfriend is like me, he has no idea how to keep you safe. Not really. Not all the time. There are so many things out here in the dark. Hell, the daylight, too for that matter. And you have no idea. I pray you never ever find out. There's so much evil in the world. So many times shadows aren't just the darkness. It's so hard. So freakin' hard. And you look at us like we hung the moon until we do what we have to. Then all of a sudden, we're like your enemy or even worse – you're…you're disappointed.

"You're so goddamned disappointed and all I did was whatever I could to keep you safe. It's just never enough, though, is it? No matter how hard I – I mean, we – try. It's never enough for the two of you. So we just go on. Disappointing you and making you mad. But you know what? That's okay. Because at the end of the day, you're still safe. So we get up. And we do the same thing the next day."

"But who keeps you safe, Dean?" Sam's question was quiet but seemed to echo and hang in the air.

Dean seemed confused. "You do, Sammy." He stated that like the commonly known fact it was.

"But how can we when you're always taking off alone?" This came from Markie. "We can't help you if we don't know where you are or what you're doing. You can't really keep us safe when you're not with us, can you?"

Dean opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by a sudden screeching wail. Dropping his hand to the gun at his back, he yelled at Sam to get the duffle full of weapons. Grabbing Markie's arm, he hustled her to the Impala. "Do me a favor, Markie, okay? I need you to get in the Impala and I need you to stay low. Don't come out for anything. If your boyfriend finally shows up, you get him in the Impala, too. Do you hear me?"

Markie started to protest. "What? No. What was that?"

"Markie!" Dean's voice was hard and implacable. "Get in the Impala. This is what we were just talking about. I don't have time and I can't be watching you and Sam, okay? Just get in there and don't come out unless you see one of us or your boyfriend." Dean shook her a little. "Understand?"

Another shriek echoed through the space. Markie jerked, then whispered, "Yeah. I understand." She scrambled into the back seat of the Impala and watched as Dean and Sam checked the guns that were suddenly in their hand. For the first time, Markie began to feel uneasy. The shrieking outside didn't sound human, and Dean and Sam seemed like nice guys, but what if they weren't? She swallowed heavily and decided as soon as Dean and Sam entered the trees that she was leaving the Impala and walking. Sooner or later, she'd find Matthew.

Hopefully, by the time they got back to her car, Dean and Sam would be gone and the screaming would be over. Shuddering, Markie shrank back against the back seat, completely hidden from view unless someone came up beside the car. Lifting her head, she saw Dean nod at her sharply, then turn to enter the trees.

Markie waited for a few minutes, then crept out of the Impala. Crouching, she made sure Dean and Sam were nowhere in sight before slipping out of the shadow of the Impala and reaching into her car to grab her purse. Stepping into the grass, she removed her shoes so she could run more quickly through the grassy areas. She was almost done with her second sandal when she smelled sulfur. Wrinkling her nose, she jerked upright and glanced behind her to make sure Dean and Sam were still occupied. When she confronted the creature that was somehow right in front of her, though, she tried to scream. She really, really did. As the thing reached for her, claws curled, teeth snarling and ugly, swarming face coming right for her, she finally shook herself free of her shock and ran for her car.

She fumbled for the door handle and heard Dean screaming in the trees. "Fuck, Sam. It's headed toward where Markie is. Are you okay?" Markie couldn't hear an answer. "Sam! Answer me! Are you alright?" Sam yelled he was fine, but it was weak and too breathy to be entirely true. Even Markie could hear that over the wheezing of whatever the hell this thing stalking toward her was. She got her door open after what seemed like hours and threw herself into the seat of her car. Locking the doors, she hunched over the console and waited, praying Dean would get to her soon.

"Markie! Don't get up, you hear me? You stay down. There's something out here you don't need to see. You're safe in the Impala, so stay there, you hear me? Markie!"

"I hear you, Dean, but…"

Dean could tell her voice came from the right of him instead of the left where it should be. "Fuck! Markie! I told you to stay still! Dammit! Why can't you just listen when someone gives you an order?"

"Dean! Stop bitching at her and get that damn thing, would you?" Sam's shout was pained but closer and stronger.

"Shut up, Sammy. You're next, so get prepared for some major yelling when I get done with this thing!"

"What's taking so long? I don't hear any shooting. No hacking of heads. Not even your body smashing into trees. What's going on?"

"Gotta reload the shotgun, Sammy, Jesus. Give me a minute here, would you?"

"What the hell? When does it take you this long to reload a gun?"

"When I think my fucking loading arm is broken, that's when you smug son of a bitch!"

"What's that thing doing, Dean? Just standing around waiting for you to get done?"

"No, it's currently trying to tear apart Miss I Don't Have to Listen to You's little pop can of a vehicle. Bet you wish you'd stayed put, don't you, sweetheart?" The shotgun clicked shut as Dean finished reloading it. Lifting it and propping it against his hip, Dean quickly draped his bad arm over the top. Luckily, he could still squeeze his fingers enough to pull the trigger. Hefting his pistol with his other hand, Dean yelled at the creature until it turned and headed toward Dean – intent on getting rid of that annoyance so he could move on to its nice hot supper. Considering that hot supper was named Markie and was currently a living, breathing person, Dean couldn't allow that to happen.

The creature screamed and shrieked as Dean shot it full of salt and iron rounds. Its body began to smoke, but the creature kept coming, slowing down, but not anywhere close to stopping. The shotgun was empty, and so was the pistol. Dean cursed and dropped them both, pulling his knife and gripping it with his broken hand. He reached for his machete with the other, then stepped toward the creature, anxious to meet it halfway.

**

Matthew was not having a good day. Markie was being even more prickly than normal, and he couldn't seem to do anything right around her. Matthew could have fixed the stupid car if Markie wasn't such an untrusting shrew sometimes. Kicking a large rock on the side of the road, Matthew dreaded the second he got back to her. She was going to raise hell, but it really wasn't Matthew's fault this time.

The shop that the sign claimed was 2 miles away had been closed for months, and the closest other place was nearly five more miles away. Matthew ended up walking most of those five miles but did get a ride for the last couple. He was sweaty, hot, and irritated and he was in no mood for Markie's bull when he got back to the car.

Flinging the fan belt into the air then catching it, Matthew started tensing even more when he walked down the off-ramp and back to the road where Markie waited. Gritting his teeth, Matthew prepared to see Markie stomping back and forth on the side of the road, screaming into her cell phone about what a horrible boyfriend he was. Jesus. She drove him nuts with that shit. Sure he didn't do some of the things he should, and he didn't talk to her like she wanted, but dammit, he had more important things to think about sometimes beside her feelings.

Matthew shuddered at the very thought of it. Feelings. God. Matthew didn't need feelings. He needed to find out if the rumors about hunters heading for them was true and what they were really going to be doing in Roswell New Mexico. Matthew would bet every Snapple in Roswell on it being something not so good for their well being.

Groaning, Matthew sped up a bit, turning the last curve that separated him from Markie and her broken car, expecting Markie's wrath and wanting to get it over with a soon as possible. What he didn't expect was to see some black thing pounding on the hood of Markie's car. Matthew started toward the car at a dead run, watching as some stranger pulled the creature's attention away from Markie and then shot it several times at almost point blank range.

The creature barely even slowed down. Skidding to a halt, Matthew raised his hand and concentrated on the creature just as it reached the man that had emptied his guns and was now attacking the creature with what looked like a machete and a knife. Shaking his head at the man's stupidity, Matthew concentrated, sending his power out and into the thing now holding the man almost two feet off the ground.

Matthew gasped. When he'd used his power before, he could feel it leaving him, directed out of his fingers and hanging in the air until it reached its destination. When his power had reached his target, Matthew could always feel it brush up against the object, then either slip into or over it until it was clutched in his power and crushed between his fingers.

This thing was not like that. Matthew could feel his power slipping through the creature like it was nothing but air. There was no substance, no essence. There was nothing. Just darkness and some kind of putrid, swirling disease swarming all over the thing. He forced himself to concentrate harder and try to get a grasp on this monster before it killed the fool it still held in its inky black fingers.

A moment later, the creature straightened, dropped the man on the ground, then swung around. It started toward Matthew, but only made it about three steps. Matthew grunted with the effort but sent even more power rushing at the creature. The thing exploded in a shower of black ooze and stink.

The man it had dropped was on his feet, eyes narrowed on Matthew, machete in hand. "What the fuck are you?" He snarled. "I mean, thanks for the save, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to kill you."

Matthew scoffed and raised his hand again, but was stopped when Markie flew out of her car and jumped in front of the man. "No, Dean. This is my boyfriend. He's fine. No harm. I swear. He's cool."

Dean raised an eyebrow and pulled Markie toward him. "We'll see. Come here. Tell me what you are. Now."

Matthew narrowed his eyes at the stranger – who obviously wasn't a stranger to Markie. He strode toward them but was distracted by noises in the trees.

"Sam!" Dean called. "Stay there. We may have another problem. Markie says no, but we've seen how smart she is, haven't we?"

"Hey!" Both Matthew and Markie replied at that. There was stillness in the trees, but Matthew could feel someone watching him carefully. Who the fuck were these people? Suddenly, it hit him – hunters. Great. Just what he needed.

"Look, Dean. Matthew is not a monster like…whatever that was. He'd never hurt anyone, okay? I mean, obviously, you've seen some weird shit. Surely a little telekinesis doesn't even twinge your weird o'meter, right?" Markie smiled, but it was strained.

"Keep your hand by your side, Firestarter, and come here. I still want to know what the hell you are."

Matthew didn't like this man. Not at all. He was Matthew's height, but broader, more muscled. His face was handsome but hardened like he'd lived a difficult life. The way he handled weapons suggested it was something he did quite often and solidified Matthew’s idea they were hunters. The guns and now the machete seemed more like an extension of him rather than a weapon for him to use.

Slowly, Matthew approached. "Let Markie go."

"I'm not holding her, you idiot. I'm protecting her."

"From what?" Matthew scoffed.

"From whatever the fuck you are." Dean looked down, "And believe me, I'm not buying the telekinesis story you're trying so hard to sell, missy."

"Dean. I swear. This is Matthew. See? You can see the fan belt back there on the road where he dropped it. He's a good guy, Dean."

"Why are you defending me to this guy? You want to know what the fuck I am? How about we talk about who you are, and why you've got your hands all over Markie? Oh, and how is it that Markie knows your name, huh?"

"Matthew-"

"No, Markie, I want some information, too. Pretty Mouth here isn't the only one that expects a little clarity around here."

"Did you just call me Pretty M-"

"Dean." That was a new voice. Matthew stepped to the side so he could keep an eye on the new person without having to lose sight of Dean. Matthew didn't trust him as far as he could see at night – with a blindfold on.

"Who are you?" Matthew demanded. This man was huge. Tall and broad, he stood at least 4 or 5 inches taller than Matthew and had huge muscled arms and shoulders. Matthew's senses clamored – threat, threat, threat. There was something off about him. "And you all are worried about me? What the fuck are you?"

Dean stiffened, and growled, "That's my brother Sam. You make a move on him, and you'll be dead before you hit the ground, you understand me?"

For the first time, Matthew was a little concerned. Dean was apparently vicious when he thought there was a threat to his brother, and there was a determination and a certainty there that made Matthew understand. He may have the powers, but Dean wasn't about to let anything happen to his brother. He was prepared to kill to protect him, and Matthew, well, Matthew wasn't prepared to kill for any reason other than survival.

Sam stepped closer, hands raised and empty. "Thanks for helping us, man. We appreciate it. Markie is fine. We had heard about this thing, and we were out here to stop it when we saw Markie's car right where the thing likes to attack." Sam was talking as he moved closer, smooth and slow and inevitable.

"We stopped to see if we could help her, get her on her way and out of danger." That explained why they were headed their way, then. He would have to be very careful to make sure there was no reason for them to stay. Danger, they’d said. Markie had been in danger and he'd left her all alone. "When she told us you were going to get the belt we knew we'd have to wait with her until you got back. While we were waiting, the creature started shrieking in the trees. It ran after Markie, and we chased after it. We just wanted to keep her safe."

Matthew narrowed his eyes again, appraising the men in front of him. "Okay. Fine. Markie. Come here."

Dean held tight to her arm. Sam just said he was going to get the fan belt that lay fallen on the side of the road. "I'll be right back."

Matthew kept him in the corner of his eye as he watched Dean. Markie put her hand over the one Dean had clamped over her arm, and Matthew wanted to scream at him to stop touching her.

"Dean." Markie's voice was soft and slow. "He keeps me safe. Dean. Let go."

Dean let her go and Markie stepped toward Matthew.

Dean snorted. "Yeah. He keeps you safe. Uh-huh. Leaving you on the side of the road alone right in the spot where multiple young women disappeared really shows a huge amount of caring and concern."

Matthew stiffened. "Dean-" Markie started.

"I didn't know anything about that!" Matthew yelled, stepping toward Dean. "I would have never-"

"Whatever, Drew Barrymore, I've heard all about what a stellar boyfriend you are, so don't even try that with me."

Glaring, Matthew stared at Markie for a moment before turning back to Dean.

"I didn't know, you ass! I would never have left Markie alone if I'd known that thing-"

"Ever hear of a newspaper, genius? This new thing they've got now called a TV? It has pretty moving pictures and these things called the NEWS. Maybe, I don’t know, the internet?"

Dean was shoved right into Matthew's face, both of them screaming at the other, both seeing a threat almost too big to fathom.

"I have better things to do besides chase down the thing under the bed, man. Sorry if it bothers you that I have a li-"

"That 'thing under the bed' as you call it can kill you and hack you into bits as it sucks on your brain, you stupid arrogant little fuck!"

"You're calling me arrogant? I've only known you a few minutes and I already know you think you're god's gift to – everyone! So don't talk to me about arrogant, you…"

Matthew's tirade tapered off as the honking of a car horn finally registered. Markie had her window rolled down and the car was running. Thank god, now they could get the hell out of here…

"When you self-righteous assholes get done throwing your dicks around, get in the car. I’m tired and I want to go home. And you two,” She pointed at Dean and Sam, “need medical attention.”

“Sam?”

“I’m alright, you can probably patch me up. But you’re going to need that arm looked at.”

“If you make it to Roswell, we’ll be at The Crashdown. Stop by and say goodbye before you leave.”

“Sure thing, beautiful.” Dean winked and gave Markie his most sultry grin, more to piss of Matthew than anything else. It worked.

Markie just rolled her eyes and yelled at Matthew to _get in the car already_. His eyes didn’t leave Dean and Sam until they were mere specks in the distance. The others were not going to be happy about this.

**

It turned out that Dean’s arm was not broken, after all, merely pulled out of socket, something Sam took care of quickly and with a minimum of groaning on Dean’s part. Dean carefully cleaned and stitched up Sam and they settled in for the night.

They didn’t stop in Roswell to say goodbye. Whatever Matthew had been, he was obviously no current threat, and Dean was eager to put him and this town in his rearview. If Sam thought it strange that he was just going to let an unknown supernatural threat just go by unchallenged, he wisely kept it to himself.

**

It happened on a Wednesday. The day came and went, filled with inane conversation and more ease than they’d had since this whole thing had started. That’s what got them in trouble. They let down their guard.

"Hey, let's go out tonight, get drunk and laid," Dean called from the bathroom, clearly brushing his teeth. "It’s been too long."

Staring at himself in the mirror, Sam thought,  _maybe that's just what I need. Yeah, that's it._ "Sure, Dean. That'll be great, man. Just what I need." I hope, his mind added to the end. Dear God, do I hope.

**

It had been a pretty good night, Dean thought, even as the world tilted slightly to the left and he tightened his grip on Sam. Thankfully, their motel was within walking distance. He let go of Sam, then stumbled and cursed the ground under his breath. "Sammy," he slurred. "C'mon, keep up."

So, there hadn't been any hot girls, and Sam had kept giving him more and more of those weird looks, and maybe Dean had a hard time keeping his hands off his brother and his baby, but all in all, it had been an excellent night.

Sam couldn't believe it. Dean hadn't hit on one girl all night. And there had been plenty that were attractive. Lord knows Dean wasn't one for being too picky when it came to matters of the, um, heart, but there were several that were just his type. Dean had been there with Sam, though, _really_ with him, drinking and playing pool. No hustling, no flirting, nothing to take his attention off Sam.

Sam could feel something brewing in his gut – something he couldn't blame on the beer or the cigarette smoke filling the bar. Every time Dean turned his grin on Sam, it was all Sam could do not to bask in the glow of Dean's attention. For fuck's sake, Sam had never been so needy before. What was going on?

Catching Dean's eye as he stumbled along beside him, Sam cursed his brother for confusing him, for making him feel things he wasn't altogether sure he wanted to be feeling, and for getting sloppy drunk when they had so much to figure out. Shaking his head, he sped up a little so he could catch Dean, just barely getting there in time when Dean swung toward him too fast and almost fell.

  


"Fuck," Dean murmured, muffled against Sam's shirt, even as he pushed himself back upright with his palms on Sam's chest. "I’m drunk," he commented, grinning at Sam. "Thanks."

"So am I," Sam whispered,  even though he was sober as a judge . Dean’s face was gorgeous in the yellow light of the streetlamps. Sam could barely keep his eyes off him. Taking a deep breath, Sam figured fuck it. There was always the chance  Dean  would n’t remember this in the morning anyway. Adjusting his hold on Dean slightly, Sam leaned down and pressed his mouth to Dean's.

"Sam?" Dean asked when Sam broke the kiss. "What the hell?"

Bolstered by his bold move and the fact that he could always blame the  non-existent  alcohol later, Sam grasped Dean by the back of the head. "Shut up, Dean." Then Sam kissed him again – moving his lips over Dean's full, plush mouth and licking at his bottom lip, hoping just once more for Dean to deepen the kiss.

Dean groaned into the kiss, confused and interested. He wasn't exactly sure why Sam was kissing him. He’d thought the feelings were just on his own side. He was too drunk to focus on everything this kiss really meant. "Room," he said, aware that his brother was kissing him in plain sight of anyone passing by.

Dean hadn’t said no. Didn't push him away. Sam crooked an eyebrow and started walking, Dean firmly held in his hands. It took them three tries to get the room key into the lock. Once the door snicked close d behind them, and they'd checked the salt line as was their habit, a silence spread over the room. Sam stood, just looking at Dean, giving him a chance to decide just how this night would end.

Dean knew his brother was waiting for something, but he was too drunk to figure out just what. He stumbled to his bed, clumsily undressing as he went. Once he finally climbed under the covers in just his boxers, he noticed his brother was still standing awkwardly by the door.

“Come on, Sammy,” he said, pulling the other side of the covers down. “Get in.”

“Dean, that’s your bed.”

"So?" Dean shrugged. "We can share."

Sam balled his hands into fists. There was no way in hell he could share a bed with his brother. No way at all. "Dean. If we share the bed, I guarantee you we won't be sleeping."

Dean's brow furrowed in drunken confusion. "Why are you gonna hog the covers?" 

Sam glared at his brother. Jesus. Dean was drunk as hell, sloppy with it in a way that Sam had never allowed himself to be  and Dean rarely did . It should have been easy to lure him into helping Sam clear up some of his confusion. 

Figuring this was a clear enough sign, Sam dropped his eyes to the carpet in front of him. "Never mind, Dean. I'll sleep in my own bed."

"Hey," Dean protested. "Get your ass over here." 

"No, Dean. Not tonight. I can't...Just...Go to sleep, Dean." Weary and disappointed over something he couldn't quite figure out, Sam moved to his own bed and dropped onto the sagging mattress as he started taking off his boots.

Even drunk, Dean could tell when Sam needed his big brother. "All right. What's going on?"

"Let it go, Dean," Sam warned. "Go to sleep. I mean it."

Dean huffed out an annoyed breath and rolled over. "You gonna tell me in the morning?"

"No. I don't think so." Sam snorted. "You probably won't even remember this in the morning."

"Bitch," Dean mumbled, but his eyes were already drifting closed. "I won’t forget,” Dean muttered. “Won’t forget you kissed me, Sammy."

Sam stared at Dean as he slipped into sleep. "God, I hope you do," Sam whispered. 

**

The first thing Dean was aware of the next morning was bright light in his face. He groaned, reaching out to drag the spare pillow over his face. "Fuck did I do last night?" he asked the room, only remembering few hazy moments.

Sam had lain awake most of the night, unable to sleep. When his brother's whiskey graveled voice filled the room, Sam was relieved. 'Thank God' he thought. 'He really didn't remember.' Out loud, he answered, "Same as usual, Dean. Nothing too weird."

"No girls?" Dean asked, somewhat disappointed, and then he remembered something else, his fingertips brushing against his lips beneath the pillow. "Sam, did you really fucking kiss me?"

Fuck. Now what? "W-what?" Sam cleared his throat as panic slipped up his windpipe and broke his voice into shards. "Please."

Dean groaned again, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "What? You want to pretend you didn't?" He chuckled darkly. "Well, at least now I know you're good at it."

Sam's mind stuttered to a stop. Dean thought he was a good kisser? Sam was more pleased with that than he had a right to be. Shaking his head and trying to stop the freak out he could feel coming, Sam snapped at Dean. "Let it go, Dean. Just let it go."

Dean could almost hear Sam's brain working overtime in the next bed. Sam was practically pleading, but Dean was way too hungover for this bullshit. "No way, man. That’s not something I’m going to forget anytime soon.”

"I can’t do this, Dean. Don't push it, man. Seriously." Sam bolted from the bed and into the bathroom.

Dean stared after him, the pillow now by his side, then he levered himself out of bed and followed after his brother to the closed door. "Sammy, c'mon," he called. "It's really not that big of a deal. We were drunk ."  Dean frowned. “Well I was.”

Sam knocked his fist against the bathroom door. "But it is a big deal, Dean. That's the fucking point. It's a huge fucking deal."

"What do you want from me, Sam?" Dean said angrily, his head pounding. "Can't watch you upset and do nothing."

"There are times you can't help me, Dean. God knows I know you try. But this is...It's just too fucked up, Dean. Don't you feel it? Something fundamentally fucked up now? Or is it just me?"

Dean leaned his forehead against the door, breathing deep. "No, I feel it. But it doesn't have to be, man. We can still..."

"Still what, Dean? Pretend that I don't want to fuck my brother?" Shit. What the fuck did he just do?

Dean sucked in a startled breath, and then his fist clunked dully against the door. Fuck. Why hadn't he noticed this before? "You mean that Sam?" he said finally.

Sam's hands clenched against the door, and he pressed his forehead to the warped wood. "I'm hiding in the bathroom the morning after I practically attacked you twice last night, Dean. What do you think?"

Dean grimaced. "First of all, asshole, you didn't attack anyone. Stop being so dramatic and get out here."

"Shut the fuck up, Dean. I just told my big brother I want to fuck him. I think I deserve a little time to be – what is it you're always calling me? Oh, yeah – emo, don't you?"

Dean growled. "Fine. Look, I'm gonna go get breakfast. You gonna have your head outta your ass when I come back?" He looked around for his discarded jeans. They'd be fine to get him to a diner and back.

Sam sighed. "Fine. I'll be out when you get back."

"I come back and find you gone; I'm hunting your ass down, you hear me?"

"Calm down. I'm not going anywhere."  _Unless you realize how truly fucked up I am and make me leave_ , Sam thought.

Dean sighed and nodded, putting his wallet in his pocket. "Be back in a few, then." The Impala roared to life a moment later.

Sam slammed his head against the door a couple times, then stepped to the sink. Quickly brushing his teeth, washing his face, and trying  half-heartedly to comb his hair, Sam finished up in the bathroom then sucked in a deep breath. Jesus. This could go so badly. 

One last longing look at the bathroom window, then Sam headed out into the room. Better get dressed.

Dean returned about half an hour later, a bag of greasy food in one hand, and two coffees balanced on a tray in the other. Raising one foot, he knocked it against the door so Sam would let him in.

Sam heard the Impala rumble into the parking lot and quickly buttoned his jeans. As Dean kicked at the door, Sam hurried to open it, his shirt still in his hand.

Dean hadn't expected Sam to still be half-dressed and his gaze inadvertently caught on Sam 's chest. Knowing Sam, he'd really expected as many layers as Sam could find. "Here," he said gruffly, passing over the coffee.

"Thanks, Dean." Sam took the cup and placed it on the nightstand between the beds, suddenly too nervous to be standing in front of Dean in just his jeans. Sam turned his back and pulled on his shirt, grabbing his favorite button up to throw on top of it. God. It was already awkward and they hadn't even talked about it yet.

Sam used the coffee as an excuse – keeping his back turned as long as he could. He wasn't about to start this conversation. This was all on Dean. Maybe Dean would get his usual aversion to chick-flick moments and they could forget this nonsense ever happened. Sam snorted softly. Yeah. Right.

Dean watched his brother for a moment, then settled for matter-of-fact. "So, how long?" he asked, passing Sam one of the sandwiches.

Crap. So much for avoidance. "Not long."

Dean nodded, taking that in. "Makes sense. I mean, we're practically joined at the hip anyway, and you know, you’re having my baby." He knew he should be freaking out, or at the very least a lot more stunned, but he couldn't seem to dredge up those feelings right now.

Sam gaped. "Makes sense? Are you nuts? We may be joined at the hip, but I think that's a little bit different than being joined at the - " Shit. What the hell was up with his mouth today? "We're brothers, Dean."

Dean shrugged. "And we’re going to be parents to a kid in a few months." He grimaced, a little bit of self-consciousness creeping into his expression. "You think I haven't sometimes..."

Sam swallowed. What was it Dean didn't want to say? "Sometimes, what, Dean?"

Dean found himself unable to meet Sam's eyes. "I just want you happy, Sammy. And since your pregnancy, I know you haven’t been. I don’t  k now if it was the kid that’s been fucking with my head or what, but lately..." He took a deep shaky breath. "Lately I’ve been thinking of you in ways that are far from brotherly. To hear you say the same? I...I don’t know what to do right now."

"Dean?" Sam questioned. "I -" They hadn't gone too far yet. They could still go back – pretend all this had never happened and they were just brothers. Just brothers. Jesus. Sam turned his back to Dean. All he had to do was say no. Then they'd be just like they were. Just say no. Sam turned back to Dean. "Yeah. I want you, Dean."

Dean nodded slowly. "Okay. Yeah." He slipped out of his jacket, then glanced towards his brother. "You serious? Cause I..." He grimaced, then came clean. "I am."

"Look, Dean, I know you'd do anything for me, but you don't have to do this. If...If you don't really want me, just be honest. I know I'm fucked up, and the last thing I want is to drag you down with me. Just – we can still pretend this never happened, okay? No harm no foul. Just say the word." 

Dean reached out, grabbing Sam's shoulder. "Sammy, stop. I just told you it wasn't just you, okay? I am definitely not just doing this for you." He wasn't sure if Sam believed him, but Dean needed him too.

Sam was surprised. He was sure that his brother would jump at the chance to pretend all this never happened. "Dean. Don't play with me, Dean. I can't take that. Just, be damned sure, okay?"

"I am sure, Sammy. Are you? Not gonna regret this when it's done?" He kicked off his boots, nerves making his stomach twist. He was actually gonna do this. He was going to fuck his little brother.

"I don't know, Dean. I'm not saying I won't ever freak out, but I'm definitely going to enjoy it right now." Sam stood, a bit dumbfounded, as he watched Dean slipping out of his shirt. "Dean," he whispered. "Fuck."

Dean stood there for a moment, uncertain, then went for the buttons on his jeans. "C'mon, Sammy, you're overdressed."

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Sam tore off his shirt and flung it to the floor. "I was just distracted." Unable to believe this was really happening, Sam sat on the edge of the bed and started unlacing his boots.

Dean joined him on the bed, now wearing just his boxers. He raised his hand, touching Sam's bare shoulder, then kissing it. "How're we doing this?" he murmured. "Got lube in my bag, and condoms."

Sam's fingers faltered over his zipper. Holy fuck. They were really doing this. Swallowing, he whispered, "I want you to fuck me, Dean."

Dean groaned softly, cock jumping and pre-come smearing against the inside of his boxers. "Yeah, fuck yeah, Sammy," he murmured, rifling through his duffle for the lube. Holding up a condom, he quirked a brow at Sam. Sam shook his head. 

Quickly, Sam shucked his pants, then hesitated for a moment with his hands on the waistband of his boxers. Steeling himself, he slid those down his legs as well, before sitting back on the bed. "No condom.  You been safe? "

"Yeah," Dean  answered  and dropped the condom back into his bag. “ I’ve been safe.”  As he reached the bed, he pressed another quick kiss to Sam's shoulder. He shucked out of his boxers then, and they were both naked. He reached for Sam's cock hesitantly, just feeling the weight of it in his hand at first. 

"I still can't believe we're doing this, Dean. How do you want me?"

Dean nodded. "On your belly, Sammy," he said shakily, then stroked Sam gently. "Want to open you up," he admitted, ears red as he reached for the lube with his free hand. “I want to watch my fingers inside of you, making room for my dick.”

"Fuck, Dean." Sam had to grab the base of his cock, banding his fingers and squeezing to make sure he didn't come from just Dean's deep gravelly voice. Dean would never let him live that down. 

“Have you ever done this before, Sammy?”

“No. Not with another man.”

“Relax. I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”

Dean ran his hand down the length of Sam's leg, then encouraged him to bend his leg and push his knee closer to his chest. Rubbing his hand over Sam's smooth skin, Dean took a moment to just look at his brother. Leaning forward, Dean sucked Sam's balls into his mouth,  each in turn . 

"Dean," Sam grunted, arching his back. "Please."

Dean chuckled, then placed one hand on Sam’s hip, holding him still against the bed as Dean continued to lick and suck on Sam's balls. He brought his lubed fingers up and lightly massaged the area between Sam’s balls and his ass, reveling in the sounds his brother was making. Lifting his mouth, he laid his head on Sam’s back at the same time he slid one finger into him.

Sam groaned, the sensation of Dean sliding another finger into him increasing the burn but also the pleasure. Dean prepped him thoroughly but quickly, so turned on he couldn’t stand it. Before he removed his fingers, he searched for Sam’s prostate.

When Sam jerked suddenly and whispered, “What was that?”, he knew he’d found it.

“Ready, Sammy?”

“I’m ready,” he breathed. “Fuck me, Dean.”

“Push out when I push in, okay? It might hurt a little bit, but it’ll get good, I promise.” Slowly, he pressed forward, the head of his cock pushing against the tight muscle of Sam's ass. Groaning, he slid about halfway inside and then paused, giving Sam time to adjust before rocking slowly forward until he was fully inside.

Dean wasn’t kidding. It hurt. At first, it was a lot, but then the sensation faded, and Sam started paying attention to his body in a way he never had before. He breathed deeply, in and out, and focused on the feeling of Dean’s thick cock sliding into him, oh so slowly and carefully.

Dean gave him a moment to get used to his presence inside Sam’s body, then, after a silent nod from Sam, started to move. His strokes were long and slow, gliding in and out of Sam smoothly.

"God, Dean. I never thought I'd have this. Fuck. Dean, please…" Sam didn’t even know what he was asking for, but he knew he was asking for more.

Dean’s strokes faltered for a moment as Sam breathed out his plea, but then picked up right after, Dean pounding into Sam hard enough to shake the soft globes of Sam’s ass.

“Oh, fuck, Dean, yes. Like that.”

“You like that, Sammy? You like my cock up your ass?” Sam could only groan. “Tell me, Sam. Let me hear it. You like fucking your big brother?”

“Oh, Dean, fuck, yes. Brother. Fuck. Brother!” Sam reached for his cock, sliding his hand between the mattress and his belly, giving his dick the little extra friction it needed. “I’m going to come, brother, please. Harder.”

Dean obliged, pounding into Sam until he cried out and came into the covers below him. Shifting, Dean planted his knees and doubled his efforts, stroking his cock in and out of Sam’s still convulsing hole. He came a few minutes later, Sam’s name on his lips, barely remembering not to crush him as he gently pulled out and flopped down, exhausted.

“We’ve got to clean up, Sammy,” he said a few minutes later. “We can’t sleep like this, it’ll be terrible by morning.”

Sam just grunted, already mostly asleep. Dean just laughed and dragged himself out of bed to rinse off and get a wet washcloth to clean Sam. Lying back down and wrestling the covers out from under Sam’s dead weight, Dean quickly fell asleep – Sam in his arms and a smile on his face.

**

Nothing is ever easy with the Winchesters, god knows. There’s not a chance in hell this would be either. Sam was up before Dean and worried. If there was anything Sam knew, it was that his brother would do anything for him. Did that include sleeping with him?

He was still brooding about it when there was a growing buzz by his ear. Sam started hard when there was a smiling pixie suddenly right in front of him.

“Friend! It is I, Foster. I’ve brought your...” Here he paused for a moment. “Your glamour.”

“Shhh! Dean is sleeping,” Sam hissed, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he was in bed with his brother. Naked. Sam could tell the pixie was saying something, his little head bobbing and his tiny mouth moving, but Sam couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

“You don’t have to whisper,” Sam snapped. “I can’t hear a bit of it.” He started to get up but was abruptly reminded of his nakedness. “If you’ll just...fly outside to the car, I’ll be out once I’m dressed. We can talk there.”

With a nod, the pixie was gone.

Sam eased out of bed and dressed quickly, softly shut the door and headed to the Impala.

“Hello, friend!” Foster greeted as soon as the car door was closed.

“It’s too early for that much happiness, pixie,” Sam grumbled.

Foster just giggled and waved his hands in a complicated pattern. A pouch about his size appeared in the air between his hands. “It took them awhile to figure out what kind of jewelry to make for you that wouldn’t get in the way or look out of place, but I think they found the perfect thing!”

Sam reached for the pouch and carefully opened it. The first thing he saw was leather. Sam tugged it out carefully. It was beautiful.

“They thought about a ring or a necklace, but those might get in the way while you’re hunting. They settled on a bracelet. It’ll seal itself around your wrist when you put it on. It could be removed, I guess, but it will take a lot for that to happen.” Foster paused then added, “but you can easily remove it anytime if you want to.”

“It’s beautiful,” Sam breathed. The leather was more supple than anything Sam had ever felt – it could have been the magic, of course, or it could just have been the fact that Sam had so very few nice things in his life. There were runes carved or burned all over the bracelet top and bottom. “What are these?”

“Some the majick you need and some protection.”

“I recognize this one,” Sam commented, rubbing his fingers over that spot on the leather. “I’ve seen it somewhere before.” Sam struggled to remember exactly where.

Foster flew closer to take a peek. “Oh, was there a cupid involved? They use love majick from all over the place in their work.”

“Love magic?” Sam asked alarmed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“No need for alarm, Sam. It’s merely to strengthen and protect the love you have in your life. Nothing else.”

Sam fidgeted for a second, fingers plucking at the bracelet. “Speaking of...of love,” he started, then stopped to clear his throat. “Some things have happened between...between Dean and me, and I’m just wondering….” He trailed off.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! We all wondered when you’d finally see the truth!”

“You don’t think...” Sam stopped then started again. “The baby wouldn’t...”

“The baby wouldn’t what, Sam?”

“Do anything to make sure its...parents...were together, would it?”

Foster blankly looked at Sam for a moment, then burst out into laughter. “No, no. The baby is only concerned with you and your well-being right now. He wouldn’t try to influence your life that way.”

Sam sighed in relief.

Foster carried on giggling, stopping just long enough to brightly add, “That’s a cupid’s job!”

Sam groaned.

“What brought this on, hunter?”

“I know Dean loves me...” he started.

“ _Everyone_ knows Dean loves you. Love like yours is rare and shines like beacons across the world to anyone that would see.”

“I’m just not sure he loves me _that_ way.”

“Has he not shown you he does?”

“He has. I just...” Sam groped for words. “I’m just afraid he doesn’t want this like I do. That he’s just doing this to keep me happy.”

“And if he is?”

Sam looked up startled.

“Keeping you happy makes him happy. Isn’t that enough?”

“No. I don’t want him to do anything that he doesn’t want to.”

“There is little in this world that could make Dean Winchester do something he didn’t want to.”

“I could. That’s my problem.” Sam bunched his fists. “I don’t want him sacrificing like this for me.”

Foster shook his head. “You Winchesters are nothing but sacrifice. You’ve gone to hell, purgatory, _heaven_! And every time, you’ve come back. Every time. You can tell yourself it’s for the world, but it’s clear what you come back for.”

“I just need to be sure.”

“Maybe you need to have faith.”

“I’m not sure how much of that I have left.” They were quiet for a moment.

“Alright, Sam. I can help you with this. I told Dean a story about auras awhile ago. How they change, how yours matched, how they showed your conflict and suffering more clearly than any mirror. He chose not to take me seriously at first.”

Sam snorted. “It always amazes me how little he believes even after everything we’ve seen.”

“He believes. He just likes to pretend.” Foster flew closer to Sam, “and because I know this, I’m going to help you get the proof you need.”

“How?”

“I’m going to open your mind so you can see his aura.”

“What?”

“Lies are an ugly, muddy yellow and they wiggle through someone’s aura when they tell them like snakes. The more guilt, the longer they stay. You have 24 hours. I suggest you use them well.” Foster flew close to Sam and reached for him, but stopped at the last moment. “You mustn't ever tell Dean about this, Sam.”

“What? Why?”

“How would you feel to have absolute proof your brother didn’t believe in you?”

“I’ve been there. It...” Sam’s voice trailed off. “It was one of the most painful things I’ve ever been through.”

Foster smiled sympathetically and lifted his hands.

“Wait!” Sam whispered. “No. Don’t. I… I’ll try to believe him.”

Foster grinned. “Believe in him. Believe in me. He is right where he wants to be, doing what he wants to do. Heaven didn’t make you soulmates on a whim, you know.”

“I know,” Sam said, the repeated it more strongly. “I know.”

“Be well, hunter. I must get back. Call me if you need me.” Foster waved his hands, smiled at Sam, and disappeared.

Sam crept back into the motel room.

“Did you get breakfast?” Dean croaked, still lying in bed, “and is that pixie dust in your hair?”

“Foster brought me this,” Sam held up the bracelet for Dean’s inspection. “My glamour.”

“That’s some nice work. Do we want to know what those runes are?”

“Protection magic, mostly. They chose a bracelet because it seemed to be the most unlikely to interfere when we’re hunting.”

Dean flinched at that, dragged himself up in the bed and took an extraordinarily long time settling the covers over his stomach and getting situated against the headboard.

Sam simply watched him, eyebrows raised.

“About that...” Dean finally said.

“About what? My bracelet?”

“No, about hunting.”

“What about it?” Sam asked warily.

“I think we should stop.” Dean continued without pause, speaking quickly like he expected Sam to interrupt with protestations at any moment. “I don’t think I can go through you getting hurt anymore right now. I mean you’d just gotten out of the hospital and were barely healed when we had to take on that thing in Nevada.

“And I know you’re not my wife, Sam, but you are pregnant with my child and that alone just tears my nerves up. I know, I know, the baby will protect you with its mojo. I know that, but I also can’t get past the fact they said that it would live even if you died, and I...I can’t seem to let that go, Sam.”

“He,” Sam corrected absently.

“What?”

“Don’t call our baby it, Dean.”

“You don’t know it...he’s a boy yet.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do… _Anyway,_ you’re not going distract me from this, Sam.” Dean said defiantly.

Sam walked over to Dean, shucking his clothes as he went, then climbed into Dean’s lap and plopped down. “You sure about that?”

Dean’s only reply was a strangled, “Damn you, Sammy.”

**

“I’m not kidding about this, Sammy. We need to talk about this. I want to stop hunting until you have the baby.”

“Okay,” Sam replied, scrubbing his hair under the lukewarm stream of the motel shower.

“What?”

“Okay,” Sam repeated, shrugging.

“That’s...” Dean frowned. “Really? I expected more of a fight.”

“I get it, Dean, and I agree. If there’s anything major that happens between now and then, you and someone else can handle it, I’m sure. The only question is,” Sam stopped rinsing his hair to look at Dean, “where are we going to live?”

Dean took a deep breath, “Well if he lets us back in his house, I was thinking Bobby’s.”

“He’s gonna love this.”

“What’s the worst that can happen? He’s never refused us before.”

“No, but he has run us off with a shotgun.”

“There is that. There’s always Rufus’ cabin if nothing else.”

Sam pursed his mouth and nodded, “God knows we’ve stayed worse places.”

“Hurry up, Sammy, I’m starving and you’re taking forever. I still need to wash my hair.”

“Hey, there’s a lot of me to wash!”

Dean grinned wickedly.

“Oh, no, Dean...” Sam started, “...do you know the statistics on shower related sexual injuries?”

Dean pouted.

Sam just scrubbed faster. “No, Dean.”

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean whined.

Sam sighed in exasperation. “You better make it count, Dean because if I break or strain _anything_ , you’re not getting laid for a month!”

“Oh, I will, Sammy. You better believe I will.”

Sam just groaned.

**

“Boys,” Bobby greeted them warily a few days later.

“Hey, Bobby,” Dean said. “Have we got a story for you.”

Sam slapped Dean on the back of the head.

Bobby just grimaced. “ _Balls_.”

 

           

 


End file.
